Late Bloom
by wonderstance
Summary: Don't blink. You're almost always guaranteed to miss something. Pre-canon.
1. Blink

**Note** : If you know it, you know it.

* * *

 _Late Bloom_  
1

 _Blink_

* * *

If I have to say one thing about life, it'd be _never blink_. You are almost always guaranteed to miss something.

Our world is feudal. There's this constant war, even when we're not fighting. Madara once told me it was complicated but to be honest, I'm not really interested anymore. In the war, I mean. I think I have enough blood on my hands, at this point.

You don't have to believe me. I'm not asking you to be ignorant. I'm just asking you to listen. Listen, and just hear me out on this one. I promise I won't shove my convictions down your throat or have any ulterior motives.

Oh, but.

Trust me on the blinking thing.

* * *

"You look stupid."

Madara sneered, while his helpers clothed him in his war attire, "This armor was passed down from my great-grandfather."

I shrugged, "So looking stupid runs in the family."

"Ironic, considering the fact that we have the same surname," he snapped.

"Same surname, different family trees," I pointed out.

"Nice save."

He shot me a glare that probably could've killed a man ( _literally_ ) and I smiled apologetically, taking a seat and letting my hand rest on my lower abdomen while I observed him from a small distance, "Is black like your favorite color or something?"

"This is war—not a fashion show," he stated stiffly, lifting his arms up as the pieces of armor clinked into place, "and do you actually consider yourself qualified to talk about fashion?"

I frowned, glancing down at my plain gray kimono wrapped at the waist with a loose white _onbi_.

They were designated garbs for the caretakers of the clan. If I had the money and if I had the choice, I'd be perusing the compound in cobalt blues and fire reds—but dreams were only dreams and sometimes they were better off staying that way. In the end, I didn't choose this life—I was born into it, but I made due with it. And I found peace through acceptance.

Kimonos were only kimonos, after all—nothing but pieces of pretty decoration.

Gray wasn't such a bad color anyway.

My hand hovered over my lower stomach, as Madara's helpers left the room. The doors slid shut behind them and I shifted my gaze to the war-clad shinobi, who was staring himself over in the mirror.

"Is there something you need?" He asked, voice completely devoid of emotion.

I shifted my gaze from his reflection in the mirror to the portrait of a ship caught in a storm that was mounted on his wall, "Actually—"

I paused. Maybe not today. Not yet, anyway.

"I just wanted to bid you goodbye," I told him, "you know—just for good measure."

"That seems uncharacteristic of you," Madara looked only mildly displeased, but he didn't remove his gaze from the mirror.

It was a half-assed answer so I should've expected him to say something like that.

Maybe tomorrow. If tomorrow never comes.

"I'll be at the training grounds," he stated.

It was his version of an open-ended invitation.

The war wouldn't start for another month and these next few weeks would be dedicated to getting the troops in shape. I didn't like being cooped up in the Uchiha compound anyway, so I'd probably find an excuse to go visit the training grounds whenever I could.

"Okay," I replied softly.

If Madara weren't so preoccupied with the upcoming war, I wouldn't even hesitate to tell him what was wrong right then and there. But there were matters outside myself that were important to the clan and this might've just been a triviality that could cost him his life. A triviality that could cost _my life_.

The last thing I needed was Madara in the fight of his life on the battlefield, only to have him distracted by the news that could potentially end his political career. I tried not to shudder at the thought.

I stood up, "Don't die, okay?"

It was only here that he finally tore his attention away from his reflection in the mirror. He made his way over, armor clinking each step of the way.

I wanted to say something about how proud his parents would be if they were here but everything was too contrived and I wasn't the kind of girl who forced conversation for the sake of conversation.

Madara put his hand on top of my head, "I won't."

* * *

I reached the courtyard of the Uchiha compound, feeling completely overwhelmed by the nausea in my stomach.

I squatted down, and rocked back and forth, trying to grasp some kind of solace in the fact that Madara would be better off in the battlefield without knowing—I was trying to rationalize my actions. Rationalize my silence in the face of adversity.

"You didn't tell him."

Izuna approached me from the opposite end of the corridor, leaning against the balcony separating the courtyard from the compound, "You need to. This is the sort of thing that matters to his career."

"I know," I admitted a bit reluctantly, "but this is also the kind of thing that would ruin him."

And the word I didn't say: _forever_.

There was a short pause.

Izuna looked like he was mulling over something. Then again, it was difficult to actually decipher what he was thinking. He had a penchant for looking indifferent and he could've been thinking about what he was going to eat for dinner, for all I knew.

He didn't often meddle in his brother's personal life. It'd become a bit of a taboo topic, ever since Takada (but that was a story to be told another day). For a while, I actually convinced myself that this would be one secret that would pass off as irrelevant. One secret I could try and bury inside myself. But then again, I'd always been naïve about these matters.

A stupid, _stupid_ girl.

"Nii-san couldn't care less about what people think of him," Izuna stated, "as much as you think he wants to rise in the ranks, there's a part of him that would give it up with no qualms."

The idea made me laugh. Madara. Giving up his ambitions for the sake of some girl.

Some stupid, _stupid_ girl.

I pursed my lips, "I don't want him to even fathom the thought of giving up all he's worked for," and I hesitated slightly before I decided to continue, "I want to see him succeed. And if that means I have to take the fall, I'm okay with that."

"Noble, but if you wanted to be a martyr, you should've kept your feelings to yourself before all this happened," he stated, "then you wouldn't be in this position at all."

It was a difficult pill to swallow, but he was right. If I had just kept my big mouth shut—if I had just followed my obligations and listened to my mother, I wouldn't be here in the first place.

"Hindsight is a bitch," I admitted.

Even though the pain and burden could be hard to bear, I forced myself up onto my feet. The skin around my ankles were stretched taut. Completely swollen.

I averted my absentminded gaze from my feet to Izuna, who was leaning casually against the balcony ledge with his arms crossed over his chest.

I was unable to bottle up my frustrations and relented a soft sigh, turning my heel.

"I'll be off," I said, waving my hand, noncommittally, "to get my bed rest. Chiaki wouldn't have it if she caught me in the corridors like this."

But.

I hesitated before I could take my first step, "You know how Madara said there was a faint smell of fruit before death?"

"What about it?" Izuna seemed only moderately interested in what I had to say.

I half-laughed, brushing a lock of my hair behind my ear, "Nothing."

I peered over the canopy to see the sky painted a brilliant shade of navy blue. Stars blinked and—for a fleeting moment—I was content. This wasn't the kind of conversation I wanted to have with Izuna, but it was the kind of conversation that I needed to have.

A sort of coming to terms with reality, I suppose.

I felt comfort knowing that I wasn't alone. Izuna always pressed the questions that no one else really bothered to ask.

"Madara has never lied to me before," I figured there was no harm in telling him, "and he hasn't given me a reason to doubt him, so maybe I will. Tell him, I mean. And if he doesn't want it, that's fine with me. It's not like I'm in a position of helplessness."

I took a step forward—paused, and looked over my shoulder and shot Izuna the best smile I could manage in this circumstance, "Maybe the kitchen is making apple pie tonight. Kind of smells like it."

* * *

The training camps weren't far from our compound.

It took some patient waiting in my bedroom until Chiaki left to her own quarters before I headed out. Security was light during times like this and it wasn't long until I managed to escape the gates of our compound.

It must've taken me roughly three circles around our gates before I realized our camp was probably hidden until some genjutsu. The Uchiha clan wouldn't be the Uchiha clan if it didn't constantly supervise every waking detail until the watchful gaze of an illusory eye.

By the time I reached my forth circle, a guard emerged from the shadows. I explained to him who I was and that I was given orders from the elders to give Madara his honorary war onbi. A white lie but he recognized me as Madara's caretaker, did a general scan with his activated _sharingan_ , and let me in, albeit with reluctance and distaste.

I followed him through the folds of the illusion and caught sight of Madara immediately.

He was directing a young man, who wouldn't have been more than eleven. _Kami-sama_. Eleven and ready to fight on the front-lines. Eleven, and ready to give his life to a war that he probably didn't understand.

I looked up to the sky.

* * *

When I was nine, I found a robin. A pretty, red robin. Her nest was right outside my windowpane and her eggs were bright blue—blue as the sky.

A blue jay appeared one day and discovered the nest. I was under the stupid impression that he'd fall in love with the robin and it'd be some grand love story that transcended nature and time.

But instead, he devoured the eggs in her nest and flew off into the sky. Almost like he was never there at all.

When the robin came home, she let out a terrible cry of despair.

She circled her nest for two days before she starved herself and died.

* * *

I watched in horror as the sky exploded from above.

My ears were ringing.

It was hard for me to make sense of where I was. All I could tell was that I was lodged inside a pile of gravel. There were cries from all around me but I couldn't make sense of anything except the constant ringing inside my ears.

I tried to push myself out, but I ended up collapsing over the side of the gravel pile and hitting the ground below with a light thump. A couple metal rods clattered next to me and I covered my ears with my hands.

To my horror, as I looked down to my feet, I was bleeding.

Desperate to find the source of the wound, I groped my entire body, kneeling into the dirt.

I wouldn't even care if it were my legs. Or my arms. Or even my head.

Rational thoughts. _Rational thoughts_.

Hot, fat globs of tears began to form as I came to the realization that the dark river of red was coming from between my legs. It became more and more difficult to even see behind the veil of tears, but still, I tried my hardest to make sense of what was happening.

To make sense of _why_ this was happening.

At once, everything began to shake. My hands trembled violently, and in a desperate attempt to quell this fidgeting, I ended nicking myself in the eye with my fingernails. My hands were sweaty and I tried to clear my head for a relevant thought—something, _something_ to make sense of all of this.

"Please let this be a dream," I whispered.

Rational thoughts, _rational thoughts_.

I couldn't breathe.

 _Help_ , I tried to cry out. But instead, I collapsed and let the exhaustion consume me.

* * *

"Senbi?"

I clenched my fists.

" _Senbi!_ "

Shut my eyes.

"Where are you hurt?"

Tried to breathe.

"Where are you bleeding?"

The first thing I heard was the clink of armor as Madara kneeled down in front of me. It took me a moment to compose myself before I could even open my eyes and look at him.

What was this feeling of total shame and embarrassment?

Why did I suddenly feel so small in comparison?

"Where are you injured?" He asked, putting his hands on my shoulders.

From head to toe, he was dressed in black. Black like the sky.

There was another clink as he shifted his gaze across the barren field, littered with bodies and blood. Another clink in the armor as he looked back to me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his shoulder, resisting the urge to completely unravel and break down in his chest.

I closed my eyes. Clenched my fists.

 _Don't cry_.

 _Don't cry_.

I hated seeing him like this. I _hated_ seeing him in his armor. I knew it was an inevitability, but every time he put on his war attire, it was another reminder that I might never see him again and that just had a tendency to take my breath away every single goddamn time.

 _Don't cry_.

And this. This shouldn't have even mattered to me. How could I be so upset over something so stupid? How could I be so upset over something I never even wanted in the first place?

How could I be upset over something I wasn't supposed to have at all?

It was ironic that the stinging scent of apples that was so apparent earlier was only remote and distant now.

"I was pregnant," I said.

Madara paused. Hesitated, almost. It was the closest thing to disbelief I could ever see him wear on his face.

"Was," he stated, his breath hitching, " _was_?"

I stifled a sob and felt the hot, wet tears stream down the side of my face, "I had a miscarriage."

He shifted his gaze to the pool of blood on the lap of my gray kimono.

 _Don't cry_.

I clenched my fists, "It was yours."

Madara pulled me into his arms.

All I could see was the sky from over his shoulder—the thick, black sky with all the stars blinking right back.

* * *

— **three years ago**.

* * *

The Uchiha clan was the greatest clan in the world.

People were dying. Everyday. Sort of like battle royale with clans and countries playing the cards. And we always won. That's why we were so renowned. That's why we were so revered. That's why we were so _feared_.

Our current leader is Uchiha Madara. He only recently came to power after Daisuke-sama. No one really knew what happened to him but no one seemed to really care to investigate either. Everyone was too preoccupied with the new leader to really give thought to the past.

Kaa-san was Madara's primary caretaker. Assistant. Helper. Whatever you wish to call it. So it was only natural for our paths to cross eventually.

* * *

The door to Madara's office burst open.

She had to be around my age: dark-haired and fair-eyed.

Tears poured down her face and her cheeks were tinged a pink. As soon as she caught sight of me, the bowl in her grasp slipped and clattered to the ground, breaking into a dozen pieces. I opened my mouth to say something but before I could, she ran off in the opposite direction and disappeared down the corridor.

I stared into Madara's office to see him signing papers, documents poured over his desk in neat piles. He looked up and caught my gaze but I didn't look away.

"Close the door," he stated coolly, shifting his gaze back to his papers.

There was an awful rumor that went around overstating Uchiha Madara's temper. I wasn't really sure where the rumor came from but it was always something that was just...accepted. Girls in my corridor liked to gossip about him. They called him a picky perfectionist who never knew when to be satisfied, a tyrant warlord, and a fearful leader. The latter nicknames were more popular among our clan.

Kaa-san recently fell ill.

When she was Madara's caretaker, he wouldn't dare challenge her. It was the whole respect-your-elder ideology we had going on in our clan.

Kaa-san had me when she was in her forties, which made me what they called a late blossom.

To be honest, I didn't understand what that was supposed to mean. It never gave off any kind implications and I hardly felt flattered when people referred to me as it.

With Kaa-san ill, the prospective caretakers in line took her place.

It wasn't much to be proud of, I suppose. Initially, I believed it would be some kind of honor to serve the leader of our clan but after a few weeks of careful and happenstance inspection, I came to the conclusion that Madara wasn't _that_ kind of leader. He never cared much for triviality and small talk, anyway, so I shouldn't have been surprised.

Unlike most caretakers, I wasn't assigned to anyone. I drifted between the kitchen staff and the postal workers.

Kaa-san always insisted that she wanted me to be Izuna's caretaker but that never quite worked out the way she planned (he and I never actually met in person). She somehow always expected too much out of me, and I'd much rather be assigned to someone more average and commonplace.

I just wanted a normal life of certainty, to be honest. Apparently, that was too much to ask for.

"Nice job," I stated, "that must be the fifth girl this week you've scared away."

Madara didn't even bother looking up from his paperwork, "Sixth, actually."

It took me a moment to register his response. But eventually, I complied to the silence and pulled the door shut with a click. My fingers lingered on the knob for a moment before I turned to the broken pieces littered on the floor.

I knelt down and started to pick them up.


	2. Blood

2

 _Blood_

* * *

"Crap."

I winced, nicking myself in the finger with one particularly sharp piece.

It was a minor cut, nothing too serious, but enough to make the blood drip down my wrist and onto my arm. I groaned, licking the stream from the source of the wound, trying to clean myself up.

* * *

I entered the kitchen and discarded the broken pieces into the trash.

The head chef, Mizuna, looked up from her prep work, an array of finely chopped onions and tomatoes sitting on her cutting board.

She sighed softly, "He really had to _break_ the bowl?"

I looked through the cabinets for some bandages, "It wasn't him."

"Was it the girl? _Tch_ ," Mizuna wrinkled her nose and motioned to the second cabinet on the left with her cutting knife, "I should've expected so. Two left feet—that one."

"It wasn't her fault," I said.

"That's coming straight out of her paycheck," she snapped, ignoring me.

I frowned. _Cut her some slack. She's had a rough day_ , I wanted to say.

But confrontation wasn't quite my forte so I shut my mouth and shifted my gaze to the open cupboards above my head that she motioned to with her knife earlier—I made a quick scan.

Ah, no luck. No bandages were to be found.

"I'll be off," I said, trying to stay nonchalant. "My mother is probably looking for me to bring her afternoon tea."

* * *

A white lie.

But to be fair, I wasn't looking for any daylong commitments and the best way I knew to slack off without being reprimanded was to find someone to play chess with me. Usually an elder, or kid. That way, I could operate under the pretense of keeping someone company, or taking care of someone. Basically what my job is.

Knowing Kumi-sensei, my teacher from elementary school, he was probably lurking in the courtyard or sneaking around in the adult section of our library.

So finding a target was relatively simple.

Now, I could at least pretend I was busy without actually feeling burdened.

Because I _liked_ chess. I was _good_ at chess.

To be fair, I wasn't good at many things otherwise. In fact, there was little I excelled in. I was too frail to be a fighter, too _feminine_ to work in a political society dominated by men.

(Which was honestly a shame because I was really never given a chance to succeed in the first place)

But I suppose it wasn't too bad. I didn't mind living a simple life of certainty.

* * *

"Checkmate," I grinned, moving my queen forward two spaces, "want to play again?"

Kumi-sensei sighed softly, the corners of his wrinkled lips curving up to form the faintest smile, "We've already played three games. Haven't you had enough?"

"C'mon, _sensei_. It's good for your mind," I tried to say without being too overbearing. "I'm doing you a favor. Keeping your brain active. Making you think. Besides, you don't have anything else to do, right?"

"That's awfully presumptuous of you," he replied. "You do realize I have work to do in the library."

"We both know what kind of perverted research you're doing in the adult section," I muttered under my breath.

"Hm?" He asked. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing," I shot him a smile.

" _Hey, let me have a go at this game,_ " a voice interrupted.

I blinked.

I wasn't really sure where Madara's younger brother came from.

I honestly didn't sense him at all. And I swear, I only realized he had appeared when he manifested behind Kumi-sensei.

He was tall, but not as tall as his elder brother. He was probably a bit leaner, too. He had short hair but his features were far more jarring.

A defined chin with a pair of pretty, almost feminine eyes. In other words, he was a pretty boy. A pretty boy with a cute little cocky smirk on his face.

A smirk I wanted to rip apart.

Kumi-sensei's eyes widened, suddenly realizing his place and moving out of the way so the younger Uchiha behind him could take a seat, "Izuna-sama."

I pursed my lips and tried not to frown as he took a seat down in front of me, "Drop the honorific, sensei. Izuna is fine."

"Your name?" He asked.

"…Senbi," I replied, a bit reluctantly.

"I'm Izuna," he stated, putting the chess pieces back in place.

"So I've heard," I hadn't meant to reply aloud but it was one of those things I didn't think through.

He paused, only briefly, fingers grazing over the head of a knight before continuing to move the pieces back onto their respective tiles.

Without looking at me, he asked, "So what exactly have you heard?"

"...things."

I kept my gaze fixated on him, while he started to line up the king and queen. A row of pawns. Behind them was the backline. The rooks, knights, bishops, king and queen.

"Unwilling to talk, huh." Izuna looked mildly intrigued, raising his gaze to meet mine once all the pieces were settled, "How about this? If I win, you tell me what you've heard. And if I win, I'll…"

He paused for a moment, arching a brow, "Well, what do you want to know?"

I could've said anything, really.

I could've asked him about Madara, the constant topic of discussion within our clan. There were so many rumors floating around and I could've asked him to confirm any of them. _Not interested._

Or I could've asked him about the simple things. His likes, dislikes, the girls he's been with, the food he likes, the places he's travelled. Something intimate, something personal. _Not interested, either_.

I could've asked him about the secrets locked away inside our clan, or the hidden passageways in the basement that have since been closed up. _Sort of interested_.

I could've asked him about the future—I could ask him about his hatred for the Senju clan, and Madara's ill-fated relationship with Hashirama. _Pretty damn interested._

"I'll think of something when we're done," I said.

Another lie. I already knew what I wanted to know.

But I didn't want him to dwell and have time to mull over a response that was politically correct.

I wanted an honest answer.

"You're white," I said, "you go first."

* * *

"Checkmate."

I leaned back into my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.

It'd been a game that took nearly twenty minutes to finish and my neck felt stiff, so I stretched back and felt my skin stretch taut.

Ah. I really needed to work on my posture.

It was a game that took longer than I would've liked but getting the win was the only thing that really mattered to me.

Izuna smiled sheepishly, "Chess was never really my forte."

 _That's reassuring…since you're our clan's tactician and right hand_ I thought, unable to hide the grimace on my face.

"What is?" I asked. "Fighting?"

"You could say that," he replied, leaning forward to put the pieces back into place, "Although I'd argue that that's probably Madara's forte."

" _Madara_?" I echoed his older brother's name, "You don't call him _nii-san_?"

He kept his gaze fixated on the chess pieces in front of him, "So what do you want to know?"

So he didn't want to talk about it. No matter.

It wasn't something I really gave much thought to. Just something I thought was a bit strange. Rarely did siblings address each other by their first names.

" _I heard from Mizuna you were supposed to bring my tea half an hour ago_."

I shuddered.

From the sound of the voice alone, I knew it was Kaa-san. Standing over me.

Her shadow looming over the chessboard between me and Izuna.

"Ah, Kiyo- _baachan_ ," Izuna smiled up at her, "I was just telling Senbi-chan what a good chess player she is. I'm pretty new to it, so she's still showing me the ropes."

A lie, another lie and another lie.

Senbi- _chan_?

I wanted to roll my eyes.

Addressing me like we're so familiar when we were nothing but strangers.

And _as if_ he were new to chess. How would our clan's leading tactician not know how to play the one game that relied on cleverness and tact?

Don't even get me started on his last lie. _Showing me the ropes_. It was all so contrived, and Kaa-san would never buy it.

"Was she now?" Kaa-san looked skeptical. "Perhaps, she could show me my kettle of tea that she was supposed to bring?"

I resisted the urge to groan audibly, feeling embarrassed by the sudden turn of events.

I hadn't been able to ask my question and I was being reprimanded by my _freaking_ mother in front of Izuna.

"We'll have another lesson tomorrow, right?" He stood up and shot a wink in my direction, a half smile on his face. "I think I'm picking it up pretty quickly.

I stood up and bowed reluctantly, bidding goodbye to Izuna.

Once he disappeared down the corridor, Kaa-san turned to me, looking completely unimpressed, "You could've ended two turns earlier."

I opened my mouth to protest but as I ran over the last few moves in my mind, I realized she was right.

Maybe I could've cracked a joke and called her the _true sensei_ , but she didn't like trivialities, so I kept my mouth shut.

I linked arms with Kaa-san, heading towards the corridor.

Hm. Maybe I was getting rusty.

* * *

"You really shouldn't be out of bed," I said sternly, kneeling besides Kaa-san's futon.

She was sitting up and I handed her a warm cup of tea that I picked up quickly from the kitchen after the little skirmish in the courtyard with Izuna.

She paused, momentarily, didn't drink, and placed the cup of tea on the ground next to her futon.

I tried not to frown.

"Madara's already scared off the fifth girl this week," she stated dispassionately.

"Sixth, actually," I corrected.

Another something I meant to keep to myself but ended up slipping through.

I bit my lower lip.

Kaa-san stared at me in confusion, with one eyebrow arched up. But she didn't say much.

The door to her room slid open and in walked Kaminori, a childhood friend of mine, dressed head to toe in black, which meant he was about to head out on his next mission.

His hair was rustled, like he hadn't seen the end of a brush for days, and from the little smile on his face, he looked like he had good news to present.

"Kaminori- _kun_ ," my voice was low—a half whisper, which probably gave off the impression that I was breathless.

But I swear it was because I was surprised. The more I thought about it, the hotter my face felt. I looked away from him immediately.

"Didn't I teach you how to knock?" Kaa-san snapped.

Kaminori was handsome (then again, most Uchiha men were).

I think, in another life, he would've been as strong as Madara had it not been for his health.

He didn't have the biggest chakra pool and he was a bit frailer than the rest of our clan. But what he lacked in strength, he made up for in wits and cleverness.

Still, he'd yet to beat me in a game of chess. The thought made me smile, if only for a little while.

"Apologies for interrupting," he said. "I just wanted to bid farewell before I head out on a mission tonight."

"Another mission?" I asked, feigning ignorance. "You just got back from a mission yesterday, didn't you?"

"Don't worry your little heart over me," he teased, a wry smile forming on his face, "the mission is relatively simple. Shouldn't take more than a day before I'm back."

"When you say it like that, it only makes me worry more," I replied.

"I'll remember that next time I tell you," he said, putting on a smile.

I blushed.

We grew up together when we were young.

His parents died early on, so Kaa-san took him under her wing.

I suppose I saw him like an elder brother back then, but things were different now. He'd grown up quite a bit and we spent more time apart the more and more the clan called him out for missions.

I suppose I was always a bit jealous that he was born in this position of opportunity.

Being a man could do wonders in the Uchiha clan.

I shook the thought off.

We'd grown apart but he'd always find time to visit me and Kaa-san.

And even though we didn't see each other as often anymore, I felt like nothing really changed between us. He had bigger, better things to move onto. And a girl like me could dream, I suppose.

"We miss you at our weekly clan meetings," Kaminori looked at Kaa-san, "it's not quite the same without you minding the young ones."

"Your flattery is meaningless to me," was Kaa-san's stern reply, her lips curving into the faintest semblance of a smile, "you _fool_."

Ever since Kaminori-kun started working over time on missions and getting more involved on the frontlines, I began to worry.

I suppose that might've been the logic behind my wanting to live a normal, _average_ life. It was so I could take care of him.

"Of course, of course," he said, "anyway, I'll be off."

He waved his hand noncommittally in the air, "I'll be seeing you," he looked at me, " _ja ne—_ Senbi."

I smiled as the door slid shut behind him.

"Get your head out of the clouds," Kaa-san snapped, flicking me on the side of the head.

A sweat drop slid down the side of my face and I felt the heat rising on my face.

Of course, I could protest but Kaa-san wasn't _that_ kind of person and there wasn't much I could say without raising suspicions about me and Kaminori, so I kneeled down next to her futon once more and gave her a briefing on what was happening lately in the Uchiha compound.

Although I already had a sinking suspicion that she already knew what was happening— _what_ , with the way she talked about Madara before.

Kaa-san hated being bed-ridden. She hated feeling useless.

"It's time for you to take over my duties," she said. "Starting today, you'll be watching over Madara."

I blinked.

A pause—I tried to mask the blatant surprise that was probably written all over my face.

I mean, I should've expected something like this. But still.

I didn't expect these obligations to come so _soon_.

She laughed, but that laugh soon turned into an uncontrollable cough.

Reaching out for the cup of tea next to her futon, she took a sip, quelling the cough, "I've already recommended you to the elders."

"Without asking me?" I snapped.

" _Idiot_ ," she shot a glare at me, "as if I need the permission of a _child_."

"I'm 17," I protested, "I'm hardly a child anymore."

"Then start acting like an adult," she replied. "And watch your defiance. Because it tends to give the impression that you're a lot dumber than you are."

"I'm not dumb."

"Only dumb people blatantly deny the fact that they're dumb," Kaa-san stated.

I wrinkled my nose.

Sometimes, it was difficult to gauge her reactions and it was even more difficult to forgive her but even I had to admit she had the right intentions in mind.

Her stubbornness made her hard to deal with and when I was younger, we'd clash far more often because of stupid, trivial things.

Now that I was older and a little bit wiser, we'd clash only over our different philosophies.

We didn't agree on much, but she was my mother, so I couldn't hold a grudge.

But it'd always somehow resort to her favorite response: "stop being a child" or some derivative of it.

And it always ended up with me retreating with my tail between my legs.

 _Respect your elders._

 _Keep your mind clear._

 _Rational thoughts, rational thoughts_.

"Be stern with him," she said, "and don't let him take advantage of you."

The thought made me want to laugh.

Silently, I stood up and headed towards the exit, "Anything else?"

Kaa-san was silent. I paused by the open doorway, waited a moment.

Still, there was only silence that followed so I left without another word, sliding the door shut as hard as I could on the way out.

* * *

I waited outside Madara's office. A minute passed. Two minutes.

Three.

I couldn't help it. I was anxious. _Nervous_.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, redwood frame of his doorway, teetering back and forth on my feet.

I knew I wasn't being discreet and some part of me hoped that someone would notice and ask if I were okay, just so I could buy some more time away from actually entering.

Because on the other side of the door was Uchiha Madara.

Uchiha Madara and his big, hulking ego.

Uchiha Madara who'd scared off six girls in the span of a week.

Uchiha Madara, who could probably break my spine without giving it a second thought if I wasn't careful with him.

But still. Even if he was Uchiha Madara, he would never be as frightening as Kaa-san's wrath.

" _Well. How long are you going to wait out there?_ "

I flinched at the sound of his voice, accidentally knocking my head into the frame of the door.

 _What the hell_ I thought bitterly to myself, rubbing my forehead with one hand while I reached for the doorknob with my free hand.

Trying not to look too surprised when I walked in, I took a spot in front of his desk, where he continued signing papers.

He didn't even bother acknowledging my presence.

"What is it?" He asked, completely impassive.

I bit my lower lip.

The truth is, I didn't really know what I was there for. I hadn't been briefed about anything so I didn't really know what to expect.

Did he even need me at all today?

So.

I started with the basics, "I'll be your new caretaker from now on."

Madara continued scribbling away, "And that concerns me?"

 _Well yeah. Didn't I just say I'd be your caretaker? So yeah. It concerns you. What kind of question is that_? _Baka-yaro_.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that it probably wouldn't help the situation at the rate it was going.

Madara was pretty much everything everyone has ever said.

Intimidating. Unpredictable.

A man with some serious presence.

He had long, thick black hair way past his waist. Much longer than my hair. Instinctively, I reached out and tugged at a lock of my own hair, which barely reached past my shoulders. I never really liked long hair anyway.

And his eyes. They looked tired. _Indifferent_ , maybe. Like he'd seen his fair share of casualties. Almost like he was unimpressed with the world around him. And why should he be?

"Staring is rude," he said.

I shifted my gaze.

Maybe I _was_ staring a bit obviously but I couldn't really help it.

I'd never been in such close proximity to him before. At least, not at a point where I could really take a good look at his features.

I'd seen him around the compound from time to time and I saw him in the corridor earlier on where his caretaker dropped the bowl, but even that was just a short glance.

The room was dark—darker than I remembered when I walked in.

A single candle sat on his desk, illuminating the room in soft shades of orange.

I wrinkled my nose, sniffing the air.

Yes, the fire was real, but was the candle there when I walked in?

"Aren't you going to answer my question?" He asked—sort of. It was definitely a question, but the way he asked it came off like a statement. Like he was commanding me to reply.

"Pathetic," he said, "get out of my sight."

The shadows of his room shifted, covering the left half of Madara's face.

It was all very ominous. _Dark_.

And I honestly wanted nothing more than to run.

 _Run_ because the shadows in the corners of the room started to look like monsters. The monsters I've seen in nightmares long ago.

 _Run_ because the flame on the candle began to burn brighter and bigger.

 _Run_ because the monsters were only growing bigger.

 _Run, run, run_ far away from here.

But.

 _Ah_.

I finally understood now.

It wasn't because of his temper.

There were men and leaders from our clan before him with tempers too so he was far from the first.

He wasn't special.

Uchiha women would never be so quick to concede defeat in the face of such simple adversity. I always wondered how he managed to scare away every single caretaker after Kaa-san and now it all started making sense to me.

It was a matter of presence, really.

"So how far did the last girl get before she realized you put her in a _genjutsu_?" I asked.

At once, he stopped scribbling.

The room brightened up—suddenly.

The candle on Madara's desk vanished from sight, light flooded into the room, and the shadows disappeared completely.

A goddamn genjutsu. _Really_.

There were other ways of avoiding confrontation but this was definitely the most creative thing I've seen so far.

"She never noticed," was his curt reply. This time, he met my gaze, "And you?"

"Started feeling something was off when the candle appeared on your desk," I admitted, "but I didn't know it was a genjutsu until you illuminated the wrong side of your face."

A valiant effort, I had to say.

But sometimes, you have to pay attention to the innocuous details too.

He paused, "Who are you?"

"My name is Senbi," I said.

"Kiyo's child? _Tch_ ," he quipped; he didn't look surprised at all, "I wasn't aware you'd become a caretaker."

Of course I did.

What other choice did I have in this godforsaken clan?

If I had it my way, I wouldn't be here at all. But I learned to accept my fate.

That was the only way I made peace with myself, really.

It took me a moment to digest the fact that Kaa-san had mentioned me to him. That he knew who I was.

But I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised. Our clan was relatively small so pretty much everyone knew of everyone.

Without too much thought, I decided to reply, "Yes, so you better mind what you say since she'll be hearing everything."

He let out a low whistle, "Laying out all your cards on the table already? Stupid. It might end up biting you in the ass."

"I think I can take my chances," I replied.

 _I can tell you a thing or two about being an ass_.

"Why don't you just tell the elders you don't want a caretaker?" I asked, "Why go through all this trouble? Do you really need a genjutsu to do your work?"

"Is that really any of your business?" He asked, shifting his gaze back to his papers.

"I'm just curious," I said.

"Haven't you heard? Curiosity killed the cat," was his response.

It was probably an attempt to sound menacing, but it came off as more cliché and _trite_ more than anything.

"I've always been more of a dog person anyway," I shot back.

He stopped, only for a moment, before continuing with his stack of papers, "How'd someone like _you_ end up with a name like _Senbi_? _Beauty of a thousand_ , right? That's what it means," there was a pause, where he gave me a glance up and down, "I don't buy it."

I frowned. Two could play at this game, "How'd you end up the leader of our clan? You must be—what—17? Seems kind of young to be leading a warfront. _I don't buy it_."

It was mimicry at its most juvenile but I just couldn't let him off the hook.

The last thing I needed was Madara stepping over the line and thinking he could take advantage of me forever.

Besides, Kaa-san was right. I couldn't let him take advantage of me.

"You better watch your mouth before I rip out your pretty voice box," he snapped, "and for the record, I'm 18."

Ah. Close enough. He was young, to say the least. And I was only a year behind him.

"Big difference," I said, unable to hide the sarcasm.

I ignored the quip about my voice box because I figured it was for show and up until now, I didn't sense anything _physically_ threatening about his demeanor.

I suppose we weren't too different, in the end.

Silence.

"Hey." I decided to be as earnest as I could, "I know you probably don't want me here. And that's fine—"

I paused for a moment, "—maybe we can work out some kind of arrangement. So I won't get in your way," _or so you won't get in my way_ , "since we're going to be seeing a lot of each other down the line."

Silence.

"Maybe we got off on the wrong foot," I admitted, "and we should start with introductions again—"

"You're bleeding."

I blinked, "Huh?"

"You're bleeding on my carpet, you _idiot_ ," he motioned to my finger.

Below me, a small puddle of blood was forming on the floor. I laughed nervously at the sight of it, realizing that I'd completely forgotten to bandage it earlier on in the day.

The wound had reopened.

I sighed, "Crap."


	3. The Gate

3

 _The Gate_

* * *

Izuna and I are standing across from each other.

There's a dent in the wall next to his head with a shuriken stabbed into the wooden panels.

He doesn't look remotely fazed—not even a little bit.

Instead, there's this look of calm on his face, and I'd go as far as to say it might even border on _amused_. But I'm not too surprised.

He's seen his fair share of battles so that simple shuriken probably meant nothing to him.

On the other hand, I'm about three feet and one second from throwing another shuriken at his head.

If I had another shuriken.

Because he deserves it.

I don't care how high-ranked he might be in the Uchiha clan. I don't care about the fact that he's Madara's younger brother.

None of that matters to me right now.

"Are you satisfied now?" He asks.

I glare.

* * *

Another day, another early morning.

I yawned, stretching my arms out as I made my way from the corridor to the courtyard outside. It was a hot, _humid_ and misty day.

Izuna was already there, staring at the KIA tablet hanging from the wall of our compound.

It was a large tablet and there were hundreds of names carved into it—names of the soldiers who died on the battlefield, and names of shinobi who were lost in combat on missions outside the gates.

It was a memorial stone and there were a couple of dead bouquets of flowers sitting at the base, petals dry and shriveled up.

Kaa-san told me that the stone used to be some sort of a gathering place for those who loved and lost but after years of constant fighting, people started forgetting about it.

I couldn't even remember the last time they carved a new name into the stone.

I peered over. From what I could tell, Izuna looked like he was always alone.

Despite the bubbly façade, he almost always walked through the corridors by himself.

Whenever I did see him with people, it was usually the Uchiha elders, hoping that they could influence him enough to talk sense into his elder brother, Madara.

Efforts usually made in vain, though.

"You don't have to stare," he said, suddenly, "it's pretty obvious you're right there."

To be honest, I wasn't really surprised. It was his shinobi sixth sense, or so they say.

He still owed me an answer from our chess match the other day. _What do you want to know_?

I could've asked him anything, really.

But he didn't really look like he was in the mood and I figured I could probably ask him when the setting wasn't so grim.

So without much expectation, I walked up next to him.

I noticed the shuriken that was lying on the ground.

As I was about to reach down and pick it up, Izuna grabbed my wrist, stopping me, "Leave it there," he said.

Ah, so it was probably to honor someone. A sort of parting gift for the KIA tablet.

I pursed my lips and nodded in understanding, "Did you lose someone?"

His gaze lingered on me for a moment.

Then, he looked back at the stone, "Yes. Not too long ago."

It was strange to admit but despite my misgivings, I was lucky that I hadn't lost anyone close to me to the war. My father was an exception, but he was gone before I was even born so I didn't really have a chance to miss him. Kaa-san never told me what happened to him, and I never bothered to pry either.

"I'm sorry to hear," I said softly.

I meant it.

"It's fine," he replied almost too quickly, "there's no point in being upset over something I can't change. I can only look forward now. Maybe in the next war."

How curious.

I shifted my weight to one foot and asked, "What do you mean in _the next war_?"

There was a moment of silence.

Izuna just continued staring at the stone, "It means I can only look forward to seeing their killers back on the battlefield. I can't go back in time and save my friends—my _family_. I can only exact vengeance in their honor."

Just like that, he turned away from the stone and said, "It's the only way they won't die in vain," before walking away.

I kept my gaze on the stone a little longer before turning around, the shuriken glistening in the peripheral of my vision.

I kneeled down, picking up the weapon, hearing Izuna's footsteps disappearing off the stone courtyard.

And with all my might, I chucked the shuriken in his direction.

It sliced into the wooden panels of the compound wall, only narrowly missing his head.

Izuna paused, shifting his gaze from the corridor, meeting my gaze.

He looked surprised at first, but that surprise melted and turned into a look of amusement, "Are you satisfied?"

I glared.

Maybe it was irrational and maybe it was out of spite but I didn't give a crap at that point.

"You might've made a decent shinobi in another life," he stated dispassionately. "Your aim isn't half bad."

"Wouldn't know. I was never given the chance to try," I replied, "although I'm glad it turned out that way because that means I wouldn't have ended up an idiot like you."

He frowned, "You should really watch what you say. It might get you killed some day."

" _Vengeance_? You think that's a form of honor?" I snapped, "You think your friends and family want you to honor your death with more death? What kind of stupid, idiotic logic is that?"

"I wouldn't expect someone like _you_ to understand," he said, "considering the fact you haven't seen a day on the battlefield. You couldn't possibly know what it's like to watch your closest friends die right in front of you."

"I don't have to be an expert to figure out vengeance is stupid. I can read a book and figure that out," I replied. "Why don't you spend some time in the library? It'd help you sort out your deranged, idiotic life philosophies."

"You talk big for a girl who wouldn't survive a day outside the gates," he snapped. "Keep it up and someone might actually kill you someday."

"I think I'll take my chances," I replied, words ringing familiar.

"Go ahead," Izuna seethed. "I'm waiting."

"I mean—do you even know _why_ we're constantly at war with the Senju clan?" I asked, turning the conversation.

Izuna faltered—hesitated, almost.

Despite being the right hand man to the leader of the Uchiha clan, he was still young. _Naïve_.

He couldn't have been more then fourteen.

 _Kami-sama_. Fourteen and fighting on the frontlines.

He was a teenager, maybe even a child.

His silence only confirmed my initial suspicions.

"Once upon a time, hundreds—maybe even thousands of years ago, there was a pair of siblings. Their names were Indra and Asura. Indra was stronger in almost every single way but their father—let's call him _God_ —only saw evil in Indra and decided to put his faith in Asura to carry own his legacy—to be his successor," I explained. "Indra was jealous and founded the Uchiha clan. And for Asura, the Senju clan."

It was a hell of a story.

Some part of our history that I still remembered.

It might've even bordered close to mythology.

I had borrowed the name _God_ but what I really meant was the _Sage of Six Paths_.

But God was more fitting and I knew Izuna would never look up this part of our history on his own if I handed everything to him on a silver platter.

"And so, our clans have been fighting ever since," I concluded, "over some stupid, _ridiculous_ family dispute that happened eons ago. Literally, eons. Stupid when you think about it, isn't it?"

Maybe it was counterintuitive. Maybe I was attacking the wrong person.

"You're perpetuating a vicious cycle of revenge," I said.

It was useless, perhaps.

After all, I threw a shuriken at the head of our second in command without even hesitating.

What if I had hit him?

But that thought dissipated almost as quickly as it surfaced.

Izuna looked like he was going to say something in response, but instead, he vanished.

I blinked.

Suddenly, something sharp ripped across my face, before clinking against the KIA tablet behind me and hitting the floor.

I felt something trickle down my cheek, and I reached up to touch it.

I glanced down to see the shuriken on the ground, with a speck of blood on the razor edge.

My blood.

"You have no idea what it's like to watch people die," he said.

There he was, standing by the KIA stone.

How he managed to get from the corridor to behind me in the blink of an eye—I'd never quite understand.

I tried to process what just transpired in front of me but it was a little too difficult. I didn't have the eye of a shinobi and everything just happened too quickly.

"You understand nothing about war," he said, clenching his fists, "So don't you dare—" he took a deep breath, "—don't you _dare_ talk about our clan like that again."

And just like that, he vanished.

* * *

I pressed my forehead against the cool, hardwood door of Madara's office.

It was a long day, really.

First, I had my cheeky encounter with Izuna.

And then I spent the rest of the day avoiding my mother, in an attempt to hide the pathetic cut on my cheek. It wasn't anything serious, of course. But it'd be something she'd notice immediately (after all, who could hide a cut like _this_?) and reprimand me for.

And that was the last thing I needed today.

" _You really need to stop doing that_."

Even Madara's voice on the other side of the door sounded soothing, compared to the hypothetical encounters with Kaa-san that ran through my mind all day.

I opened the door and walked in, placing the bowl of soup on his table before taking my place by the corner of the room, near his bookcase.

He glanced at the bowl before turning his gaze to me, "You have a cut on your face."

 _Obviously_.

Had this been under any other circumstance, I would've made some snarky comment. _What gave it away—the blood?_

But I wasn't in the mood, so I just affirmed his statement with a simple: "Yep."

His gaze lingered a bit longer. But he didn't look like he really gave a damn so he turned back to the stack of papers on his desk.

I stared out the window behind Madara's desk and said, "I read something about warm weather and how it's supposed to bring out the kindness in people."

"Are you trying to imply something?" He deadpanned.

"No," it was an honest reply, "just thought it might be interesting."

"Well, you thought wrong," he said.

I frowned, "Just trying to make conversation."

" _Try_ , being the emphasized word," he replied.

"You know," I said. "You could really try being nice for a change. I hear that makes life a lot easier."

Madara snorted, "As if I need to make my life easier."

"Keep it up," I told him. "Arrogance really seems to be your forte. No wonder your younger brother takes after you."

"Don't you dare talk about my brother," he stated darkly.

I trailed off, unsure of how I wanted to continue.

It was a bit of forced conversation that turned in the wrong direction and Madara didn't really seem like _that_ kind of guy so I looked away and closed my eyes.

"You took awfully long waiting outside my door. Longer than usual," he said, changing the subject, "the soup's gone cold."

The soup was the least of my concerns.

"Sorry," I said stubbornly. "I shouldn't have said that about Izuna-sama. It was wrong of me."

With that, I opened the door, taking one last look over my shoulder.

Madara looked like he wanted to say something.

But he clamped his mouth shut, rolled his eyes and went back to his papers.

* * *

I walked to the kitchen, asked Mizuna for a new bowl of soup and placed the untouched bowl in the sink.

She said something exasperatedly about hurrying up and being more careful and I nodded in agreement each time but it was honestly in one ear and out the other.

By the time I left the kitchen with a new bowl of soup, I didn't even remember what she said to me.

Maybe I went too far with Izuna.

Maybe I overstepped my boundaries.

The thing is, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't stop wondering if I was wrong or not.

After all, he was right ( _in a sense_ ).

I'd never seen the terror of the battlefield. I'd never even experienced the loss of a friend—or a family member.

The closest thing to that was my father, and like I mentioned before, that was long before I was even born and it was before I understood what grief really was.

Still, war was a cycle of vengeance—I wasn't wrong about that. But I suppose I wasn't completely right in my zealousness either.

I suppose death was more complex than what I could read from history books.

* * *

As I reached down to open the door to Madara's office—the door opened suddenly.

I was so surprised by the suddenness of it all that the soup bowl slipped out of my hand.

Madara appeared in the frame and caught the bowl with ease, before it could hit the floor, not a drop of liquid spilling out.

Quickly, he slid the bowl onto his desk before grabbing my wrist and leading me away, down the corridor.

"The soup—" I said, stumbling behind him, unable to process the fact that he had his hand wrapped around my wrist, "it'll go cold again if you leave it."

Madara paused. He relented a soft sigh and a mild semblance of a growl.

He released my wrist and walked back into his office and I hurried behind him, waiting in the frame of the open doorway.

He grabbed the bowl of soul and started drinking.

I watched in mild fascination as he gulped down its contents in less than three seconds.

Still stunned by the sudden display, I leaned against the frame of the doorway with my mouth wide open.

"You're going to catch flies that way," he said with a smirk, "come with me."

* * *

We headed through the garden, which stood as a crossroad between the compound and the small forest behind our gates.

I didn't come here often—simply because I didn't really have a reason to.

The small koi fishpond underneath the bridge to the forest was especially lively today, a rainbow of fish coming to greet us with their open mouths as we passed by.

Madara was careful when he tended to the garden.

He always took special care of the flowers and made sure the servants knew what they were doing.

I wasn't really sure why it was so special to him, considering the fact that it had been mostly dead up until he came to power.

But I suppose it might've had something to do with his preference for aesthetics or his _boredom_ from being away from the battlefield.

I rolled my eyes.

Hopefully, shinobi weren't that simple-minded.

* * *

We were heading towards the forest. Once we reached the edge, I hesitated.

"What is it?" Madara asked, turning to spare me a glance from ahead.

I'd never been in the forest before.

It always stood as somewhat of an omen.

When I was young, if I didn't behave, Kaa-san would threaten to leave me in the forest.

 _There's a devil who takes the souls of children waiting for you_ , she would tell me.

The most unsettling part was probably the fact that I might've still believed her, at this point.

Bear with me.

The thing is, I believe in spirits. Omens.

It's a long story, and perhaps, a story to be told another day.

"I…"

But an omen was just an omen, in the end.

There was no reason to be afraid of something I couldn't comprehend.

So I took a deep breath, walked forward, following Madara's trail.

There were dangers, they said, on the other side of the garden.

Maybe there were. I couldn't tell.

The trees were tall and thick enough to block out the sun, but I suppose, if I looked at this from a different angle, I'd always been the kind of girl who preferred the shade anyway.

I shifted my gaze from the trees to Madara's back.

He was wearing his navy blue robes with the white trim today.

A Uchiha clan insignia etched in the back. A little change-up from his usual attire. He preferred black—that much was obvious to me.

"Do you come here often?" I asked.

"I take a visit before I have to leave for a long mission," he replied.

"Oh," I replied dumbly.

I didn't know what else to say. I had no clue he even had a mission to attend any time soon.

* * *

It didn't take long for us to reach a large gate.

High up, almost as tall as the trees. Of all my years living in the Uchiha compound, I never quite made it this far.

Madara squatted down and stretched out his legs, "You should get ready too."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Before I could really process what he said, he leapt into the air—dozens— _hundreds_ of feet up and landed on the edge of the gate.

I watched in mortification as he glanced back down at me, almost as if he were _beckoning_ me to come up the same way he did.

Was it really necessary? No.

But this was Madara, after all. So I should've expected the theatrics.

There was a ladder two feet away. But I suppose if I had that same ability, and if I were a shinobi, I'd do the same thing.

I cupped my mouth and took a deep breath before yelling, "You know I hate heights, right? I'll wait down here, thank you very much!"

He shrugged and motioned to his ears. _I can't hear you_.

I wrinkled my nose and yelled back, "I said—I'm scared of heights!"

"I can't hear you!" He called back. An obvious lie.

He was toying with me.

I shot him a glare.

Slowly, and hesitantly, I reached out for the ladder.

I shut my eyes and ascended, feeling the wind sift through the tangles of my hair.

* * *

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

I could hear Madara's voice, but I kept my eyes shut tight as I continued up the ladder.

 _Nothing to be afraid of my ass_.

If I fell, I'd die. There'd be nothing stopping my impending doom.

"Open your eyes, idiot."

It took me a minute to realize I'd reached the top. Madara had his hand out-stretched, and I took it, finding even footing on the edge of the gate.

"Oh…my."

The view was—

The field was barren.

Beyond the gate, it was empty. The end to the forest was abrupt. It was totally quiet—and it smelled like copper shavings and melted iron.

Like blood.

But the sky was painted beautiful shades of red, orange and purple as the sun dipped into the horizon.

I stared up in mild fascination, wondering if I'd been missing out on the view all this time while perusing the compound or sitting behind my chess pieces in the courtyard.

"Still afraid of heights?" Madara asked with a half-smirk on his face.

I looked at him and tried to suppress the smile forming on my face, "Only stupid people aren't afraid of things that could kill them."

"Oh yeah?" He didn't look amused.

"Yeah," I replied, sticking my tongue out. "That's why stupid people make excellent shinobi."

He glared at me.

I laughed nervously, "I might've...gone too far."

"Idiot," he snapped, flicking me on the side of my head.

I winced in pain. I probably deserved that.

He stared off into the distance, "You do realize you're talking about the supposedly same stupid people who are fighting for you on the front lines."

"I didn't ask them to fight for me," I replied.

"Idiot. If everyone followed what your damn philosophy, we'd all be dead," was Madara's reply.

"Maybe. But that's just hypothetical," I said.

"Don't tell me that's something you don't believe in either," he replied.

I shot him a glare, feeling my face burn up, "O-Of course I believe in hypotheticals! What makes you think I don't?"

He shrugged, sticking a pinky into his ear indifferently, "It'd make sense, considering your other string of stupid philosophies."

"Why write them off as stupid when you don't even bother understanding them?" I asked.

"I could say the same for you," he replied, meeting my gaze.

I decided to ignore his final quip since he posed an interesting point.

Despite my misgivings about war and violence, there was no doubt that my clan was still on the frontlines defending the safety of our family.

At least, that was what Izuna tried to explain to me earlier on in the courtyard.

But I wasn't stupid. I knew it fell behind ulterior motives.

The Uchiha clan was prideful and they were also protecting their namesake and honor under the guise of defense.

When I came to this conclusion, I looked at Madara, wanting to say something. _I didn't ask you guys to fight for me_.

But when I took a look at his face, I realized he was smiling. He looked _genuinely_ happy.

So I stayed silent and watched the sun disappear while the skyline turned blue.

* * *

Later on, we returned to the compound and Madara went to attend his meeting with the elders.

I was perusing the compound mindlessly, waiting for him to finish up so I could make sure he ate dinner before going to sleep.

"Senbi!"

I turned my heel and felt my heart flutter as Kaminori appeared at the end of the corridor.

He jogged towards me and flashed a smile.

"What're you doing right now?" He asked.

"Moping," I didn't miss a beat, trying to act cute and putting on a pout before sticking out my tongue, "just kidding. I'm waiting on Madara to finish his meeting."

Before I had to chance to say anything else, he took my hand and said, "C'mon. Let's go."

Had it been under any other circumstance, I probably would've ditched my duties and gone with him.

It was too easy, really.

All he had to do was flash me a half-smile and I'd melt under his gaze.

But there were other things I had to attend to and I feel something deep inside me shift when I came to this realization.

It wasn't anything I had to admit aloud, but…things were different now.

"I can't," I said, trying to mask the disappointment with a semblance of a smile, "maybe later, Kaminori-kun?"

But he seemed to understand.

So he let go of my hand, "Don't fall in love with him, okay?"

I looked at him, shocked that he would even insinuate something like that.

"Senbi," he said, putting on a big smile, "I'm totally joking with you. Lighten up, will you? Could you imagine your mother's reaction?"

"Oh," I laughed, nervously, "I thought you were being serious."

"Absolutely not. Madara's a great leader but," he said and trailed off.

Before I could even picture Kaa-san's reaction, Kaminori reached out his hand and touched my cheek. The cut I'd gotten before had already scabbed.

"But if he did this to you, tell me," the smile on his face vanished almost too quickly, "I'll kill him."


	4. Blue

xKMx: Thank you for the fuel!

Holly B: I'm glad. I put a lot of thought into how I wanted to portray Izuna (I found that I wasn't a big fan of how others portrayed him too actually) and how Senbi would perceive him. And I definitely worked on his morals because I wanted to fit into his _shinobi_ mantra. Especially with the way he's portrayed in the anime - I think it would make a lot of sense for him to try to justify the deaths of his friends. He seems to be the more emotionally driven of the two brothers. And I'm glad you like Senbi! I tried to make her unique in her own way, and different from other OCs that seem to fit between two categories: totally badass or sweet, charming girl (nothing wrong with that, of course!). :) I actually finished this fic once before so I'm just rewriting the chapters I have. Don't worry, it won't be dropped.

Justpasingby: This fic is written off timeline, which means there are flashbacks and flash forwards. For now, I can only say she had a miscarriage because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Otherwise, can't say more than that

* * *

4

 _Blue_

* * *

"We're leaving soon."

Madara's statement was halfhearted—indifferent. As if telling me was some kind of chore.

I blinked twice.

Unsure of whether I should breathe a sigh of relief or be a little remiss at the fact that I would have nothing to do in the following two weeks without him around, I decided to forgo the overreactions and made due with silence.

It seemed to be my only saving grace around him, anyway.

I wouldn't have to see Madara around.

But after reviewing the facts, I decided being around him wasn't too bad at all.

"Another mission?" I asked, "Will you be fighting the Senju Clan?"

He paused for a moment before continuing, "You don't need to worry," his reply was terse.

"I didn't say I was worried."

"From the sound of it, you might've had me fooled," Madara smirked.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I remarked, rolling my eyes. "I have bigger priorities on my mind."

"Like your chess set?" He asked.

Surprised that he even knew I played, I asked, "How'd you know?"

"You're infamous," he replied. "But your success is probably due to the fact that you've yet to find a worthy opponent."

"I've played your brother," I said.

"As I said, you've yet to find a worthy opponent," Madara stated unwillingly.

We entered the garden—the crossroad between the compound and the forest.

A sort of segue between areas, a sharp contrast between civilization and desolation. After I was introduced to the gate, I began to venture here often, usually to appease my boredom.

Flowers were prettier to look at anyway, and I preferred them to the morbidity of shiny hardwood walls and tiled floors.

Madara was careful with his garden, always making sure the flowers were tended to daily—that the koi fish in the pond underneath the bridge were fed, and that there was always someone to care for the more delicate lilacs and lilies when it rained.

"So what kind of mission is it?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me, "How long will you be gone for?"

The corners of his lips tipped to form the faintest smirk, "Do you miss me already?"

Without missing a beat, I shot back, "You _wish_."

His smirk vanished almost too quickly into a stare of contempt, "Don't flatter yourself, _idiot_. You're not my type, anyway."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "What's your type?"

"None of your business, really," Madara replied, indifferently. "Not like you could live up to it."

What was _that_ supposed to mean anyway? _As if_ I wanted to be his type.

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I decided to get back on topic, "So…what mission is it?"

"Not only do you ask too many questions, you have a tendency of asking the same question over and over again," Madara said, "didn't your mother tell you? Leave things up to the imagination. You'll rest easy that way."

"I don't like the idea of letting myself live in an illusion," I stated.

"Then consider yourself cursed for being born in a clan whose main power is _genjutsu_ ," he didn't miss a beat.

Like I said, reincarnation sounds really nice in theory, doesn't it?

But instead—and perhaps it was a bit childish of me—I stuck my tongue out at him, "So will you see the Senju Clan, or not?"

He resisted the urge to groan audibly, "You really don't know when to give up."

"Nope, I don't."

Some silence passed between us.

"You could really use some color in your office. I mean—look at the flowers in your garden," I said, deciding to change the subject. "Go get some and make a bouquet. You seem like the kind of guy who'd enjoy ikebana."

"Killing flowers for the sake of some temporary aesthetic is stupid," was Madara's terse reply.

"Well, I happen to like flowers," I pointed out with a frown.

"Then you must be pretty damn stupid too."

* * *

"Here, hm?"

Izuna motioned to the lilacs sitting by the bridge with a slight tip of his chin, "I didn't think you'd want to spar in your precious garden."

Looking down at my feet, I avoided eye contact.

I wasn't sure what kind of terms we were still on. For all I knew, he still despised me after our encounter in the corridors the other day.

 _All because of that damn KIA stone_.

Without warning, Madara made a kick for Izuna's head.

Izuna caught the kick easily, "You've gotten rusty, _brother_."

Fighting had never quite been my style, either.

But I figured that would be the case since I never really had a chance to understand it. Something about _chakra_ and the _elements_ just didn't really interest me.

I'd read up on it if I could.

But true to the nature of our clan, most of our techniques were hidden under illusion.

Only those with the _sharingan_ could truly decipher the truth behind our powers and abilities. Unfortunately, I'd never actually gotten that far.

From what I could see, Madara seemed to be the perfect balance between litheness and power, while Izuna seemed to be more hesitant and _wary_.

There seemed to be some sort of sibling rivalry, some sort of _stubbornness_ I couldn't quite make out from the younger brother.

It was easy to see that Madara relied more on his intuition when they met hand-to-hand, while Izuna was more thoughtful, more careful.

Slower, essentially.

Madara's fist met Izuna's jaw and I watched in mild fascination as the first bit of blood spilled into the air.

* * *

By the time the fight was over, Izuna was out of breath.

They might've been equal in all aspects—strength, stamina, and speed. But Madara seemed more veteran. As if he knew how to react precisely.

I didn't want to believe in this idea of god given talent, but he might just be the physical embodiment of it.

 _Yes_ —maybe it was cliché, but it suddenly began to make sense why he was the leader of our clan.

"You'll stare holes into the side of his head if you keep staring like that," Izuna stated.

Maybe a blush was appropriate, but I wasn't really that type of girl to begin with.

I was more surprised by the fact that he'd addressed my presence at all. For a moment, I really thought we were still on rough terms with one another.

When I looked back, I realized Madara hadn't even broken a sweat, which probably meant he was holding back.

 _Also typical of our clan_ , I thought, _we love showing our strength to the enemy but our love for our kinsman trumps our pride in battle_.

Madara glanced at me, and I looked away.

Then, he placed one hand on Izuna's shoulder and whispered something I couldn't quite hear.

"Let's go," Madara motioned to the forest with a slight nod of his head, "Senbi."

He vanished into the trees while I trailed behind, trying desperately to keep up with his pace.

"You should hurry up," Izuna said, "you're his caretaker now, after all."

I hesitated mid-step, and glanced at the younger brother over my shoulder.

He didn't look upset, which might've been surprising.

But I figured with the _shinobi_ training he underwent, he was probably taught the value of indifference in the face of conflict.

Another stupid ideology I never quite understood.

Even though I always expected Izuna to be the more reasonable sibling of the two brothers, I was ultimately wrong.

He failed to live up to my expectations, my stupid, _idiotic_ preconceived notions. And maybe that meant I was the wrong who was wrong in the first place.

"I still owe you from our chess game," he said, "you can ask me anything, you know."

So we would pretend the incident didn't happen. I let the thought linger for longer than I should.

What I originally wanted to know was about Madara's relationship with Hashirama-sama. But that thought eventually expired and I came to the realization that didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Not now, at least.

"It's fine," I said, "consider it a debt repaid from the shuriken I threw at your head the other day."

Izuna smirked.

* * *

Madara really did have the upbringings to make him a great leader.

A good, wealthy family. A decent education. A strong front. Physically. And mentally. The halfhearted, don't-give-a-damn attitude that would probably rub people the wrong way.

The kind of attitude he'd need if he wanted to _survive_ in our clan.

"You're staring," Madara said.

We were standing on top of the gate surrounding the Uchiha territory, and there was a reasonable distance between us.

It made it awkward to converse naturally, and a lot of what I'd say would probably be swept away by the wind, so I kept my mouth shut for the most part.

Quickly, I shifted my gaze from his face to the empty field in front of us.

Madara was still staring off into the distance, where the sun was hitting the horizon, causing the skies to blush a virgin shade of pink.

I was trying to maintain a level of professionalism but I had a tendency to blank out in thought, which probably gave off the impression that I was staring.

But _still_.

Could he really blame me?

Madara could be dead for tomorrow, for all I knew.

Dead. _Really_. The word just left a bad taste in my mouth.

And yet, the thought made me want to _laugh_.

Maybe it was morbid—maybe it was sick. After all, missions these days made no promises of tomorrow. Living was never quite a certainty in our world.

"I was just thinking," I said, "about reincarnation."

"That kind of talk will get you killed," Madara stated.

Pray to the gods, do no wrong to your neighbor, love your family.

Our clan was overtly religious but we didn't integrate it into our daily rituals.

"What do you believe in?" I asked.

"Myself," was his reply.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, "That's a stupid answer."

He frowned, "Why? The only person I can depend on is myself."

"What about your brother?"

"Him, too. But I'm far more reliable," he stated.

"Of course you're going to say that about yourself," I replied. "But I meant religiously."

"I meant religiously too."

For the most part, most of our clan members were quiet agnostics and there were few religious fanatics, if any at all.

Yes, the thought of reincarnation was laughable to most—but honestly? _Myself_? He couldn't think of a better answer than that?

The worst part was, he probably believed it.

"Our generation was cursed with bad timing," I said softly, "all these wars. So many people are dying outside these gates everyday. Do you even remember a time when it _wasn't_ like this?"

That was the thing.

Maybe Madara thrived in war.

Maybe the battlefield was his stomping ground. The truth is—he certainly could've been written off that way from a first glance.

That's probably how he'd be written when he died.

But at least, he'd be written about. Maybe that was another reiteration of his own religion, his own immortality. Maybe the Madara school of thought wasn't too far from the truth.

"Because I can't," I admitted, unable to mask the minor tremor in my voice.

It was easy to judge him—and maybe that was the mistake I made with Izuna at first.

"Well," he said, "I can."

I smiled a little, looking back at the sky, which had since faded into a deep shade of navy blue. _Blue_ , like the color of our clan.

I laughed a little.

"What's so funny?" He asked, meeting my gaze.

"It just that," I said, "this is one of the first times we've gotten along."

Madara frowned.

"I'm glad," I admitted softly.

 _Blue_ , with no promises of forever or tomorrows.

"Don't die," I told him.

Madara glanced over—and without hesitation, he replied, "I won't."

"Good," I said. "I'll kill you if you do."

"Duly noted," he replied sarcastically.

Yes, it might've been confidence. Yes, it might've been an act of reassurance.

I never expected someone like Madara to forgo the macho, tough-guy façade in lieu of genuine kindness so I convinced myself it was probably the former.

Still, the fact that he had faith convinced me that I'd see him alive soon enough.

* * *

Kaminori let his bishop hug his line of pawns.

I frowned.

"This is pretty unlike you," he said, motioning to the white pieces he compiled from our game, "is there something on your mind?"

I moved my knight forward, "Just feeling tired today." Not a lie, but not really the truth either.

"Don't think too hard, _hm_?" He smiled, "It'll ruin your pretty face."

I opened my mouth to say something wry—and it should've come easy to me, really. But it didn't. Instead, I tried to hide my disdain with a smile, "I like thinking."

"I can tell. But it looks like you have something heavy weighing on your mind," he said, shifting his queen forward, "check."

I moved my bishop back, "Well, I do. Question. Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Kaminori shifted his queen forward again, "No."

I expected something like this.

Kaminori's thought process was grounded in science and logic.

Although I strived towards the same kind of value, I had a tendency to drift into the obscure.

Call it escapism or some kind of relief in the midst of all this madness—it was something that kept me preoccupied from the realities outside the gate.

I smiled.

 _I think I'm beginning to_ , I wanted to say. But instead, I shifted my knight up and took his queen.

* * *

note: So this chapter was pretty fun to write. Not a lot of action, but definitely a more introspective chapter. Senbi is thinking things through a lot more, and we get a lot of her insight into her shifting philosophies. A lot of important themes being established in this chapter.

For those who have read Late Bloom before, you probably recognize most of these, haha.

As always, reviews are love. And love is fuel for updates. :D


	5. Departure

satsuma-chan: I'm leading up to the present by explaining the past. :)

Holly B: Kaminori is definitely not canon. For now, all you have to know is he and Senbi are childhood friends. :) Hope college is fun!

* * *

5

 _Departure_

* * *

Madara kneeled over his tulips.

I think—and maybe I was seeing things—there was something about the way he looked today.

I couldn't pinpoint the exact nature of the change.

Maybe it had to do with the shinobi attire he was wearing. I'd only ever seen him wearing his casual ensemble in the Uchiha compound.

Either way, he looked different. But I still couldn't put my finger on it.

Maybe it was the look in his eye. A slight glint like he had been reassured about something.

Confident. Brave.

The poster child for power and war.

From the bench I sat on, I kicked my feet back and forth. A pretty bad habit I picked up.

Kaa-san always reprimanded me for it (something about kicking away all your good fortune and money). But hey, it could've been worse.

"Don't forget to drink water everyday," I said.

Even though I had only a view of his profile, I couldn't miss the sneer on Madara's face as he replied, " _Obviously_."

Biting back a retort, I decided to continue, "And remember to bathe when you can."

A small blush formed on his face.

 _Uchiha Madara_. Feared fighter. Leader of the Uchiha clan.

Unable to talk about hygiene without getting embarrassed.

When I realized this, I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Idiot," he snapped, "as if I need you to remind me of such trivial things."

"It's not trivial," I told him with a mock pout. "What if your enemy smells you out?"

"That's not how this works," he said.

"I'm just saying hypothetically," I told him, with a smile.

He smirked and stood up from where he was squatting.

I pursed my lips. I wanted to say something, but I was too distracted by the colorful arrangement of flowers. _His prized possessions_.

For someone who liked to brush things like life and death off as trivial and meaningless, the flowers really could've fooled anyone.

In the end, Madara just never struck me as the kind of person who took to a hobby like this.

After all, he was a killer. A born and raised killer. A shinobi.

Madara flicked me in the forehead, "See you, idiot."

* * *

"Senbi."

I buried my face into my pillow and tried to ignore the sound of the voice.

Trying desperately to ignore the fact that there were somebody probably towering over me in my most _vulnerable state_ , I shut my eyes as hard as I could and stifled a groan.

A soft laugh echoed in the darkness, "Senbi."

Still, I kept my eyes shut.

From the dark, I felt someone brush a lock of my hair behind my ear, "You're such a sleepyhead."

Opening one eye cautiously, I realized it was _Kaminori-kun_.

A soft smile formed on his lips.

He was wearing a plates of armor—his war attire.

From what I could make out, it was still dark outside. I suppose the team was leaving for their mission soon.

He was carrying a lot for someone who was going on a week long expedition.

It took me moment to realize he was wearing his war attire, and not his shinobi attire. Might sound similar, but they were vastly different.

War attire was heavy, covered in plating and armor. Shinobi attire was thinner, more breathable.

It was stealth attire, "Why are you wearing that?" I asked softly.

There was a brief pause.

"When we see each other again," he continued, ignoring my question, "promise me something."

Kneeling down on one knee, he put his face close to mine and pressed his lips against my cheek—something that probably would've made me blush under any other circumstance.

But it was early, and I was tired, and he was being far too cryptic for my taste.

"Give me a kiss back, okay?" Kaminori said.

That was it? That was his request?

With a soft sigh, I nodded into my pillow, "Okay."

* * *

The team left before dawn.

Instead of wasting my time in the courtyard, I decided to peruse the garden, staring at Madara's prized possessions.

"The orchids are dying."

The voice came from behind, and my heart skipped a beat.

I turned around and spotted Izuna in the distance—standing a few feet away with his hands stuffed in his pockets, "Madara can't keep them alive, no matter what he tries. They've become sort of a nuisance, really."

At this, I shifted my gaze to the wilted purple flowers in the smaller, less obtrusive corner of the garden, "Well. Orchids are notoriously known for having difficult upkeep."

Izuna walked forward and took a seat next to me on the bench, hands still in his pockets as if he didn't give a damn.

Leaning into his seat, he stretched his legs out.

 _Shouldn't you be more worried about your brother_? I wanted to ask him. _He's off on a dangerous mission—a mission he wouldn't even talk to me about. And you're just lounging around like it's another normal day_.

But instead, I asked, "Why does Madara-sama care so much about these plants?"

Izuna shrugged halfheartedly, "Beats me."

I wondered if he ever bothered trying to understand his older brother.

From what I could tell, there was some strange resentment between the two. Nothing malicious, but maybe some jealousy.

Not that I knew—not that I really _wanted_ to know. There were some things I probably shouldn't pry into.

"Hey," Izuna stated, suddenly. "Answer me this. Do you think it's easy to kill someone?"

The wind sifted through flowers, and they bowed their heads to the breeze.

The question had come out of nowhere.

Sometimes, I really couldn't figure out what Izuna was thinking.

He was unlike his elder brother—he never wore his heart on his sleeve.

I didn't know what kind of answer he was looking for, but it occurred to me that maybe he was looking for perspective. Not that someone like me would change anything for someone like _him_.

Izuna was stubborn—that much I knew.

"I don't know if easy is the right word," I said, "but it's your job. And it's something you have to live with."

"A good political response," Izuna replied, "but it's a pretty simple yes or no question."

The thing is—I had no idea what it was like to be in a position of power like that.

 _How_ would it be to stare someone in the eye and take their life away? To take their agency away? To strip them of everything they had? What kind of butterfly effect would that entail? What sort of damage would it incur upon their family?

"It must be pretty hard," I said slowly, "to live with yourself."

Izuna sighed softly.

Maybe it wasn't the answer he was expecting, but it was probably something he knew to be true.

Like most shinobi in our clan, he must've had a coming to terms with himself about his chosen profession at least once.

And when he first started, he probably didn't know it was going to be this hard either.

"Death is an inevitability," he said.

A probably roundabout way of coping with his own actions.

 _Everyone dies_.

Well, now he's just stating the obvious. But living as someone who doesn't quite appreciate the art of war, it sounds like a load of bullshit to me.

Izuna relented another sigh, "You should talk to your mother."

Slightly confused by the sudden request, I tensed up, "Excuse me?"

The look on his face might've said it all.

* * *

With all my might, I ripped open the door to Kaa-san's room, ripping it off the hinge with a loud bang.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" I snapped.

Completely ignoring the look of horror from the other young women in the room sitting around the dining table, I walked up beside her.

Kaa-san, calmly, took a deep sip of her tea, seemingly unperturbed by my outburst.

As if she didn't have a single goddamn care in the world.

A polite smile formed on her lips and she asked the three young women to excuse themselves—and they left.

But they barely crossed my mind as I took a seat across from Kaa-san at the table.

"Imprudent as usual," she said with a frown. "Maybe try knocking next time before you decide to blow the door down with your elephant feet."

I didn't even blush.

"You asked the _elders_ to kill you?" I asked, in complete and utter disbelief, "You're dying, and you're not even going to try and fight it? You just—you just _asked_ them to kill you?"

And for the first time, in a long time, her features softened.

Not really sure when I started noticing it, but the deep wrinkles etched into her face became more and more apparent. Despite the snappiness and sass she wore like a badge of honor, I wondered when the old age hit her so hard.

"You're a late blossom," she said quietly.

Other girls my age had young mothers.

But Kaa-san was old—she had me when she was in her forties, which made me what they call a late blossom.

Why didn't she ever tell me?

I knew she was ill, but I never knew it was this bad. Did she ever plan on telling me at all? Or was she just planning to keep me in the dark until she passed away? Until she was just _gone_?

A sad smile formed on her lips, but she stayed quiet.

"You told me you were ill," I bit my lower lip, trying desperately to hide tremor in my voice.

My face was heating up, my vision was becoming increasingly blurry, and I couldn't breathe through my nose. I was on the bring of tears—that much, I knew.

But I couldn't even tell Kaa-san the one thing I wanted to tell her the most.

 _I love you, Kaa-san_.

Strands of gray hair poked out from her short, dark hair. Her eyes looked tired.

There were shadows hiding underneath that I never really made out before. She'd probably seen things in her time. There were probably stories she'd never told me. She'd probably had her fair share of pain and anguish.

"You're so much like your father," she said softly.

I blinked, the tears welling up in my eyes, "My father?"

Kaa-san reached out and brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear, "His name was Miyabi."

* * *

She passed away two days later.

The last thing she talked to me about was Tou-san, but even then, most of what she said went way over my head.

I thought about her constantly.

The thing is—maybe this was the kind of destiny Kaa-san wanted to create. To control her own agency and how she'd die.

Stupid. _Stupid_.

But as someone who doesn't believe in fate, this was the sort of result that shouldn't have bothered me so much.

I _hated_ the idea that people had to abide by rules formed by some unknown entity. I _hated_ that people couldn't take responsibility for their own actions—their own choices—their own mistakes.

I _hated_ that they liked to chalk it up to some stupid, idiotic god who probably didn't give half a damn about them.

Destiny wasn't real, in the end.

It was just some screwed up fairytale adults spun so they could justify their mistakes.

* * *

Her funeral took place a week later.

I was a coward, and I couldn't even bring myself to get out of bed and attend. Even with the eulogy I had written, I didn't think I could do Kaa-san justice.

In the end, what I said wouldn't matter.

 _The selfish brat daughter of Kiyo,_ they would say.

And that was okay with me.

For a clan that learned to cope with all their decisions in the wrong way, I didn't expect them to give me a break. I didn't deserve it, anyway.

Izuna came to visit every once in a while.

We didn't really bring up Kaa-san and what transpired between her and elders. We didn't even bring up how he knew about her plan.

Despite the thin sheet of ice we were treading around each other, he seemed to have taken a stance reserved of judgment.

Probably because he understood what it meant to be in such a close proximity to death.

Chiaki, one of the kitchen girls, took pity on me and brought me food whenever she could. Not that I had much of an appetite anyway.

But she was good natured and kind, so I tried my best to put on a good front for her.

* * *

Madara's team returned slowly, and gradually—not all at once.

First, it was around a dozen of them. They appeared near the gate when the sun peaked over the horizon. Then, two or three arrived in the late afternoon. By nighttime, almost everyone was back.

Most of our clan came to greet them. It was a sort of tradition to honor the people brave enough to take certain expeditions.

I made the decision to come out in the late afternoon, taking a seat on a bench nearby the gate.

Hours passed by.

When the last batch of shinobi came through the gate, almost everyone was gone. I decided to continue waiting, anyway.

At this point, I didn't have much to lose.

* * *

When midnight came around, Madara appeared.

He stood at the entrance, his knapsack thrown over his shoulder.

I caught his gaze, and he looked at me, pausing in his steps.

I stood up.

Something looked different about him. Maybe his demeanor, or maybe it was the way he was holding himself. As if something had shifted, and completely _changed_.

He was almost unfamiliar to me.

The shadows under his eyes were deeper—darker. And there was his halfhearted tepidness that seemed almost unlike him.

I wanted to open my mouth and say something.

 _Anything_ , really. But he was yards and yards away and I was just some stupid, stupid girl who didn't know her place in the clan—too cowardly to understand half of what was happening around me.

I ran.

It occurred to me that Kaminori was still missing. That he hadn't returned with the others.

 _When we meet again, give me a kiss_ _back, okay_?

When I arrived in front of him, my first instinct was to welcome him back.

But.

He had cuts all over his body, some of them deeper than others. Some of them hadn't even closed completely.

His attire was stained with blood, and I came to the slow realization that it might not have been his own blood.

Maybe I should've expected something like this. After all, this was _Madara_ we were talking about.

I'm not sure what really compelled me to do it.

Maybe I was still dazed from everything that'd transpired over the past few weeks.

"You look like hell," I told him softly.

Madara stiffened visibly, but then, he relaxed, "Speak for yourself."

How typical of him.

 _I'm glad you didn't die_ I wanted to say, but maybe it was the setting, or something about the stars, or the way he looked tonight—I decided to keep the sarcasm to myself.

"So can you tell me what your mission was?" I asked him, "Now that it's over?"

Madara frowned, "Unfortunately, it's not over."

I cocked my head to the side, "Oh really? So when'll you be finished?"

But there was just silence—followed with more silence.

I narrowed my eyes, "Where's Kaminori-kun?"

For the first time since I met him, Madara looked uncertain.


	6. The Kiss

Holly B: I LOVE THE FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN HASHIRAMA/MADARA. But unfortunately, I'm writing in this time frame when they've already burned their bridges :( BUT HE WILL BE IN LATER CHAPTERS! Integral, actually. As for MitoxMadara, I don't have too many feelings :P it's a crack ship, which I love~ but I like the canon Mito a lot better.

* * *

6

 _The Kiss_

* * *

Madara resumed his duties as soon as he returned. _No surprise there_.

But since he was injured, he was bedridden, which meant he was signing his papers…in the comfort of his own bedroom. _Kind of a surprise there._

I walked through the doorway and shut the door behind me with a soft _click_. Leaning slightly on the doorknob, I took a deep breath. Madara didn't even bother looking up to acknowledge me, but I figured that was probably part of his charm.

The robes he wore were loose and deep cut, revealing a large portion of his bare chest, lean and finely chiseled. His hair was down, reaching nearly past his waist, and he had bandages wrapped around his wrists and elbows. There was something elegant about how casual he looked, but I decided to shake the thought off.

"Is there anything you need?" I asked.

Maybe it was the novelty of seeing him in a new setting. After all, the only Madara I knew sat behind an office desk. And when he wasn't behind his desk, he was standing on top of the gate. And when he wasn't standing on top of that gate, he was tending ot the tulips in his garden.

"No," his reply was terse.

I'd never been inside his bedroom before, and maybe it was the intimacy of our setting, but he looked different today to me.

His room was neat. A portrait of a ship caught in a storm was hung up on the wall. A fireplace sat across his bed—flame lit, burning through a couple of logs.

Still, it was difficult to see him so wounded. He'd always been in a relative position of power—the man of perfect posture, even when he was taking his afternoon tea. So to see him leaning against the headboard of his bed made me feel skittish. Yet, even in this state, there was something about him that exuded powerful, _masculine_ energy.

I took a seat by his bedside, fumbling with my gaze. What was wrong with me today?

Papers shuffled. Madara was catching up on things he'd missed out on while he was gone on his expedition. It was almost like he never had time to rest. In fact, he was always busy with _something_. I might've been somewhat envious of him, considering his incredible discipline. I'd never seen him procrastinate on any of his work, which was saying something.

' _You could learn a thing or two from him_ ,' Kaa-san had said, once upon a time, ' _Considering the fact that you'd rather waste your day away playing a mindless board game_.'

"You're staring," Madara said.

Blushing, I looked away.

Madara's room was relatively simple. Not much of it was furnished, outside the nightstand by his bedside and painting hanging on the wall. Had I not known, I might've assumed it was any other clan member's room. But I suppose he wasn't the type to keep his valuables and attachments in a confined space. He didn't strike me as that type anyway.

"I heard a saying the other day," he stated, breaking the silence.

"What is it?" I asked.

"There are two types of people in the world," Madara continued. "High maintenance people and low maintenance people."

Although I wasn't in the mood to converse, I realized this might've been his attempt at forging some sort of friendship. So without any expectation at all, I decided to ask, "What kind do you think I am?"

"The worst kind," he replied. "You think you're low maintenance, but you're actually high maintenance."

"I suppose this is the price I have to pay for humoring you," I sighed.

"Maybe it'd benefit you to take a joke," Madara replied indifferently.

"I can take a joke," I said.

"Somehow I highly doubt that."

I crossed my arms over my chest, "Has anyone ever told you you're extremely annoying?"

Madara paused, his pen still pressed against the paper, "Actually, no."

"Well. Consider this a favor," I told him. "You're annoying."

"You do realize I've killed men for lesser offenses," Madara stated calmly.

"Please don't continue perpetuating this image of yourself as some tyrant warlord," I said, rubbing my temples.

"Tyrant warlord?" He looked perplexed. "Where did you get that?"

I shrugged, "Around the block." The block of our clan's compound, that is.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"Means whatever you want it to mean."

"You're acting weird today," Madara pointed out, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Instead of giving a real explanation, I decided to tell him, "I'm tired."

"I don't even need to use the _sharingan_ to know that's a lie," he didn't miss a beat.

I couldn't help it, though. There was a lot on my mind.

Kaa-san. Kaminori.

I didn't know if any of it was worth divulging. The truth is—I didn't have many friends in the clan. The last thing I needed to do was piss off my employer by spilling the beans on my personal life. In the end, this job was the only thing worth holding onto in this intangible mess of a life—as pathetic as that might've sounded.

Madara raised his hand and flicked me in the forehead.

The impact was harsh and snapped me out of thought. Tears welled up in my eyes immediately from the sheer pain, and I used my fingers to rub the painful lump that was forming on my forehead, "W-What the hell was that for?" I snapped.

"You could answer me when I say something," Madara stated coolly.

"I didn't know you were that petty," I told him.

The look on Madara's face might've said it all, " _Oi_ —Senbi. I've been pretty kind to you all day and you're really beginning to piss me off. If you're going to stink up the atmosphere with your foul mood, I'd prefer it if you left."

I frowned.

He was right. If I didn't have anything to contribute but conflict, then I shouldn't bother staying. Especially since the only thing I was doing was moping around. It probably didn't help that we were in such close proximity of one another. I didn't know why I felt such anxiety being near him.

"I'm sorry," I muttered.

I meant it.

"What'd you say?" He asked.

"I said I'm sorry," I told him—a little louder this time.

"What was that?" He cupped a hand around his ear, a devilish grin forming on his lips.

"I said I'm sorry!"

Madara looked smug and satisfied, leaning back into the headboard of his bed, "You're dismissed." He motioned to the door with the back of his pen.

Kaa-san was gone—and so was Kaminori.

Gone.

Really.

The word just left a bad taste in my mouth. The only thing I had left to cling to was this goddamn job, and that was the painful reality I'd have to live with now.

Sure, I could waste my day away playing chess but something told me that wasn't going to fulfill the stupidly cliché crater I felt in my chest.

The truth is—I was lonely.

Completely, utterly, alone.

"Please let me stay," I whispered.

The pen stopped mid-page. Madara never shifted his gaze, so I kept staring at my lap, desperately trying to stop the tears from forming.

"You loved him, right?"

I looked up. It took me a moment to register the fact that he was talking about Kaminori. Even when I came to this realization, Madara was still staring at the paper in front of him, pen standing on the page.

"I don't know," I admitted—almost breathlessly.

I didn't know what to say. I suppose, with our clan, nothing was truly a secret—especially in such a tight knit compound.

"Did you even know who he was?" Madara asked.

"We were childhood friends," I told him. "I grew up with him. Kaa-san took care of him. I took care of him too. We lived together—we did everything together. We…he was my family."

I trailed off into silence. Madara was still staring intently at the papers in his lap.

"I asked you a simple question," he said. "Did you know him?"

And then: "Just because you consider him family doesn't mean you understand who he is."

Silence.

I stared at Madara.

Fearful leader of the Uchiha clan. Tyrant warlord on the battlefield.

Maybe the title didn't quite suit him. Fearful leader—perhaps. But _tyrant warlord_ might've been a misconception. In the end, the nicknames were cute but they didn't quite do Madara justice. They were just a fallacy to avoid understanding his true nature and intentions.

The unfortunate truth with most nicknames, I suppose.

The more I grew to understand him, the more I began to realize that Madara might've been just as lonely as I was.

Where was his family, anyway?

I wondered what kind of kid Madara was. In fact, the thought of a young Madara made me feel warm.

I wondered how often he pissed off his mother. How often he took a beating from his father for being a brat. How often he got into silly fights with Izuna—aside from the whole sibling rivalry thing they had going on. The more I thought about it, the more intimate I felt with him. I felt the corners of my lips tip up to form the faintest smile.

"What're you so happy about?" Madara snapped.

I pursed my lips and shook my head, staring down at my lap. Somehow, the tears had managed to slip anyway, "Sorry—I was just…thanks."

"Full sentences," he said. "Not everyone can understand the halfhearted thoughts that pop up randomly in your brain."

Sure, it might've been stupid to assume that Madara was a normal kid. But it helped to remember that before he became _Uchiha Madara, the grand leader of the Uchiha clan_ , he was just some average kid who had a _dream_. Maybe this wasn't appropriate, and maybe it was a bit stupid, but it'd been a while since I've felt truly and genuinely happy. Even though it might've been considered a stupid thing to smile about, that didn't invalidate my feelings of genuine contentment.

"I've been feeling really awful lately," I admitted. "But you've really cheered me up."

The look of disbelief written on his face was unmistakable. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his paperwork. I caught a glimpse of a blush on his face.

I smiled away, feeling _normal_ for the first time in a long time. As normal as it could get in this clan, anyway.

* * *

They never etched Kaminori's name in the KIA stone.

For a while, I'd stared at it longingly in the courtyard of our compound. But it took me a while to snap out of my daze and reach the conclusion that he was most likely alive. The fact that he hadn't returned meant he'd been abandoned, or captured. But with the cryptic questions that Madara posed the other day—I knew that wasn't right.

Kaminori wasn't stupid. He was the furthest thing from stupid.

I browsed the family documents in our public library at the center of the compound. It wasn't the biggest library, but I suppose that was subjective, since it was the only library I'd ever come across.

 _Your father's name is Miyabi_.

Miyabi.

The name was all too familiar to me but I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe I'd heard it in passing, or maybe Kaa-san had mentioned it once before.

Sitting on the desk attached to the bookcase, I leaned my head back. I rolled up the documents.

There was nothing.

No record of him at all.

I resisted the urge to sigh, returning the documents to their rightful place on the shelf. Peeking over the edge of the case, I looked at the stairs that led to the restricted section of the library. It was probably sealed by some kind of genjutsu.

I sighed, knowing that it was impossible for me to get through. I didn't have the sharingan to unlock it.

"Senbi."

I jolted, hitting my head on the edge of the bookcase. I keeled over in pain, holding my head with both hands, feeling a painful bump emerge from the back of my head.

Kumi-sensei manifested from around the corner, hands on his hips, "What're you doing here?"

"Research," I replied vaguely, standing up from where I was sitting, and rubbing the painful wound on my head.

"What kind of research?" He asked.

"Stuff for Madara," I replied disinterestedly. It was a white lie, but I figured it wouldn't hurt. "What're you doing here?"

Kumi-sensei grinned, "Research."

I sighed, "I suppose I don't get to know what kind of research it is."

He winked, "I suppose you don't, dear."

Maybe it was a long shot, but I decided to go for it anyway—"Kumi-sensei. Does the name Uchiha Miyabi ring a bell?"

He looked contemplative, rubbing his chin—deep in thought, "Pretty uncommon name in our household. But it doesn't ring any bells. Have you checked the family records?"

Of course I did. Naturally, it was the first thing I went for. But I decided not to press forth, since he didn't even have an inkling of where the name came from.

"Oh," I replied, feigning halfhearted ignorance. "The family records. How could I have forgotten?"

Kumi-sensei sighed, "As expected from my former dimwit student."

I frowned as the old man wobbled off into the back of the library. I tried to take the comment in stride—after all, I was the idiot pretending to be ignorant. But _dimwit_ was taking things a bit too far.

When I peeked over the edge of the bookcase, I found Kumi-sensei dabbling in the adult section of the compound's library, a tinge of rose coloring his pale cheeks. Disgusting, perverted old man.

"What're you doing?"

I bumped the back of my head against the edge of the bookcase and winced in pain. I guess luck wasn't on my side today.

Izuna popped out from the corner and looked at me, stifling a laugh. I bit my lower lip.

"Reseach," I said.

"That's awfully vague," he replied.

"Yep," I decided to remain terse.

He frowned, "What kind of research are you doing?"

"Jeez—is everyone in this clan this nosey?" I asked.

"Trying to keep things private in this clan is a wasted effort," said Izuna. "Now tell me what you're looking up."

"A person," I said.

"A person," he repeated. "What kind of person?"

"Do I have to tell you?" I groaned.

"Are you implying you'd rather me leave?" Izuna asked, mock hurt.

"Yes," I decided not to beat around the bush.

"Too bad," he replied, pulling out a random book from the top shelf of the bookcase. "I'm here doing research too."

"Is that right?" I asked, reluctant to believe him.

"Yup," he said, flipping through the pages. "So if you'll excuse me."

"What're you researching?" I asked him.

"Oh, now you're interested," said Izuna. "Too bad. If you won't tell, then I won't tell."

"How old are you?" I said, rolling my eyes.

He leaned against the edge of the desk, "It's called give and take, Senbi."

"Izuna-sama—"

"Izuna," he corrected. "Drop the honorifics. It makes me feel old."

"Izuna- _san_ ," I decided to compromise somewhere in between. "What're you researching?"

"I thought I told you give and take," he replied. "Will you tell me what you're looking for?"

After a moment of contemplation, I decided to nod. In the end, I had nothing to lose, especially since I had nowhere to start. I doubted Izuna would be able to provide much insight, considering his age. But because of his position in the clan, he might be able to access certain places I couldn't.

"I'm researching the _heavenly eyes that see all truth and all creation_ ," he stated simply.

I whistled low, "That's a mouthful."

"Indeed. It's a bit of an enigma—and a lot of it has been lost in urban myth, but I figured I should start somewhere, instead of writing it off as some kind of a fairytale," said Izuna. "Someone taught me that a while ago over a game of chess."

I smiled a bit, recalling our chess game with ease, "That's noble, I suppose."

"So?"

"So…what?" I replied.

"What about you?" Izuna asked. "What is it that you're so desperate to look for that you've decided to scavenge our pathetic public library?"

I bit my lower lip, "Like I said before, I'm trying to research someone."

"Yeah—this isn't give and take. You don't take a mile and give an inch," he told me. "Who are you researching?"

"Miyabi," I replied. "Uchiha Miyabi."

"Miyabi, huh…" Izuna trailed off, scratching the back of his head—he looked half lost in thought. "That sounds pretty familiar. Why are you looking for him?"

I shrugged it off, "Heard he was a prominent figure in our clan."

"That's it?" Izuna stared at me in disbelief. "We have lots of prominent figures in our clan."

"He was prominent before Madara came to power," I told him.

It was a white lie.

Sure, I took a risk by guessing he had some kind of prominence in our clan. But prominence was a vague and subjective term and if Izuna were to ever confront me about the matter, I'd say we had different definitions of what it meant. But I figured since Miyabi was completely erased from our family records, he'd have to have some kind of importance—even if it was more notorious.

I might've been searching for an answer I didn't want to know. More likely than not, those who were erased from the family records were traitors. When that thought occurred to me, I couldn't help but frown.

Izuna pursed his lips, "Hm. Can't think of it. If I find out, I'll let you know."

"Don't bother," I waved off the offer—even though it was generous. "It's not important. Just something I was thinking about."

He looked skeptical, but he shrugged, "I still owe you from our chess game. But if you're so adamant about it, alright then. Suit yourself."

* * *

The forest was difficult to navigate, considering the density of the brush. The light hardly penetrated the forest floor and the trees made things an endless maze. Sometimes, I felt like I was walking in circles.

"You know," I admitted, stepping over a branch on the pathway. "If I didn't have you, I'd probably be pretty lost right now."

"The problem is you're implying you _had_ me at all," Madara stated.

"That wasn't my intention," I told him.

"Sure," he seemed pretty smug and confident.

I tried not to roll my eyes.

We reached the gate. Madara jumped to the top with ease. This time, I swallowed my anxiety and climbed up the side ladder without looking down.

When I reached the top, I broke into a cold sweat.

The wind shifted, and strands of Madara's long hair tickled my face. I wasn't aware how close we were standing up until now.

He looked different today. Maybe it was the robes he was wearing—or maybe it was the fact that he looked relaxed for the first time.

"I heard about your mother."

Startled by the sudden turn in conversation, I looked up at him. Our gazes didn't meet. Rather, he was looking off into the distance with narrowed eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm fine," I told him. "I just…"

I trailed off.

For a while, we stood in silence.

The gate was Madara's comfort zone. It was the kind of thing that suited him, I suppose. Maybe it was the dark and damaged goods thing he had going on. Or maybe it was the whole king of the world mantra he had practiced down to an art form. Either way, being up here with him was oddly comforting.

I suppose it was one of the rare places where he could feel incredibly average and be okay with himself. After all, the view encompassed everything he was working for. It was wide, almost endless. And that was the sort of future Madara wanted for our clan.

"I didn't attend her funeral," I said.

It was my first time admitting that since she passed away. Most of the time, I kept my mouth shut. I always figured that I'd be annoying other people if I complained—the truth is, I probably would. After all, I was my mother's only daughter. The spoiled, _selfish_ brat daughter of a woman who dedicated her entire life to protecting and serving the clan. People probably had a right to hate me.

For a while, I shunned myself away from everyone else. Call it self-inflicted punishment or remorse. Chiaki, one of the kitchen girls, came to visit time and time again to remind me to eat. I'd never really understood her kindness or why she bothered taking a liking to me, but it's probably because I never tried to understand her enough.

After all, I hardly understood myself.

"Are you okay?"

Our gazes met—and this was probably the first time I noticed how earnest his eyes looked. A sort of calm washed over me and I looked away, feeling a blush rise up on my cheeks.

Maybe it was the lining of his shoulders.

There was something in the atmosphere I couldn't quite pinpoint.

The sun was setting low in front of us and the sky bled brilliant shades of pink. Fireflies began to emerge from the ground, and these bioluminescent lights slowly surrounded us in a colony. I felt almost dazed, and I let my gaze wander around. I was avoiding eye contact.

"Senbi."

I bit my lower lip.

There were a lot of things written on Madara's face.

Concern. Confusion. A little bit of skepticism. It made me completely rethink things, especially since I was taught that shinobi were expected to remain expressionless. Izuna managed to fit the bill, but somehow, Madara never quite made the cut. Maybe because he always spoke what was on his mind, or maybe because he was in the position of power that no one ever questioned—maybe he thought he was above that kind of indifference that was required from shinobi.

"Senbi," he repeated. "I asked you a question."

"Sorry," I told him. "I just..."

He sighed, "You really think too much for your own good."

I paused—hesitated, almost, "You can tell?"

"You're like an open book."

I weighed the thought on my mind.

The truth is, I wasn't brought up like a shinobi.

And when it came to emotions, I'd always been on one end of the stick or the other. Fighting with Kaa-san—falling for Kaminori. There was never even ground when it came to me, and that probably contributed to my crappy temper and stubbornness. In the end, I didn't know if I should take offense, but I figured there were bigger, grander things to worry about outside the petty emotions of some caretaker in the Uchiha compound.

The wind sifted through—almost violently.

I meant to step to the side, but I lost my footing, and I felt my heart drop as I slipped over the edge of the gate.

But instead of calling out, I closed my eyes and braced for the impact as I fell.

An impact that never came, in the end.

When I opened my eyes, I was in Madara's arms.

He'd caught me.

"You idiot!" He snapped. "Why didn't you bother screaming when you fell? Isn't that everyone's first instinct?"

I was nearly twenty meters in the air. I took a wrong step. I was suspended in the air. I could've died.

I should've died.

But.

The impact.

It just...

He'd _caught_ me.

Madara stared at me, expectantly—still holding me in his arms, "Well? Aren't you going to say something?"

None of that mattered.

The forest. The wind. The garden.

Kaa-san.

Kaminori.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing.

Madara.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

* * *

 **note** : ahhh, sorry about leaving this on a cliffhanger. Lots of huge changes in the next chapter. Like, big. THIS BIG *stretches arms out* haha. Okay. Peace.


	7. The Kiss II

note: warning.. smut. Dx

* * *

7

 _The Kiss II_

* * *

The kiss was short and sweet.

I pulled Madara closer, placing a hand on the back of his neck. The kiss might've almost passed off as a peck between two familiar lovers.

But of course, it couldn't. And it wouldn't.

Considering the circumstances, Madara and I were dangling from a curiously thin thread. After all, he was the leader of the Uchiha clan, and I was a simple, _stupid_ caretaker who should've known better than to overstep her boundaries. If anyone were to catch us like this, Madara would probably lose his job, along with his reputation—and I'd probably lose my life. Kaa-san was probably scolding me in the afterlife right now— _Senbi, you imbecile._

 _You always love doing the things people tell you not to_.

And yet, maybe I was being overdramatic.

Still.

The momentary pleasure might've all been worth it.

Madara's lips were soft and unassuming—which was something surprisingly unlike him. He never pushed away, but he didn't make any movement to deepen the kiss either.

I pulled back and looked into his eyes.

Madara stared back at me, unable to mask the blatant look of surprise on his face. A tinge of pink rose on his cheeks and he shifted his gaze to the ground, even though he was still holding me up.

"Sorry," I told him softly.

"…"

"It…"

I trailed off, unsure of where I wanted to even begin.

Shifting uncomfortably, I swung my legs over his grasp and felt my feet touch the ground. With one hand on his arm, I regained my balance and stood up straight.

"It was a mistake," I said. "I was being stupid. I wasn't thinking."

I was trying to rationalize my action.

Rationalize the fact that I'd just kissed Uchiha Madara.

The problem was—how could I possibly have rationalized the completely irrational?

"…"

"We don't have to talk about it," I said, shooting him the best smile I could manage. "But please say something…"

"…"

From the reaction on his face, I could tell he was distraught. The surprise he was wearing earlier had vanished, and he was staring at me skeptically—like he didn't trust me at all.

He was irritated. _Annoyed_.

The truth is, the kiss was unlike me. _Completely unlike me_. Or so I thought.

In the end, I was being senseless and stupid.

When I came to this realization, I turned around and ran.

Ran, and ran—until the run turned into a mad dash. I ran through trees and brush, feeling the leaves crunch underneath my sandals, feeling the brush graze across my skin, feeling the wind rush through my hair as I tried to steady my breath.

I ran until I was exhausted, and then I ran some more.

* * *

Eventually, I reached the courtyard, catching the stares of several clan members who were perusing through. I sped past them without a second glance until I arrived inside the safety of my own bedroom.

Slamming the door shut behind me, I sank to my knees and cried.

* * *

"This is Narikaze Takada of Kumogakure."

Takada was probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever met in my life.

Long brown hair reached all the way down to her petite waist. Her wispy bangs framed her delicate features almost perfectly. She had a pair of round brown eyes, and long defined eyebrows. From a good distance away, I might've mistaken her for an actress or model, but it was pretty apparent that the atmosphere surrounding her exuded nobility.

"This is Senbi," said Uchiha Hana, one of our clan elders. "She'll be your temporary caretaker. If you have any complaints, don't hesitate to inform me."

"Nice to meet you, Senbi-chan," said Takada with a smile.

I forced a smile and nodded.

 _Senbi-chan_ might've been a little too familiar for my taste, but I figured it was better than the alternative—which was probably disdain or indifference for who I was. In the end, I was in no position to refute Takada. She was a guest—but even more than that, she was royalty.

From the gate entrance, I led Takada along the pathway towards the Uchiha compound.

"Senbi-chan," Takada halted and motioned to the many stalls alongside the road. "What are those?"

"Merchants usually come visit our clan on the weekends," I explained. "That's when the marketplace is open."

"Ah," she acknowledged this tidbit with a half smile. "Do they sell kimonos?"

"Probably none as pretty as yours."

"Now you're just flattering me."

It was true, though.

Her kimono was incredibly beautiful—made of fine red silk, tucked in with a muted blue onbi. A golden dragon ran up the seams and the lining was trimmed in gold.

It was the kind of kimono that was as lavish and flashy as it got, a relatively fashionable piece for our current generation. A year ago, it'd been more about block colors. But this year, it was big and bold.

It was something of an enigma, I suppose. But I figured I shouldn't be the one judging fashion since I would forever be trapped in my muted gray robes.

* * *

Eventually, we arrived at the compound. I led Takada to her room, which was on the other end of the hall from Madara's.

It occurred to me, at some point, that I had no idea why she was even here.

"This is nice," Takada stated, her gaze shifting from the bed to the giant window that overlooked the courtyard. "As expected from the great Uchiha clan."

"I suppose," I said.

"Although some of this stuff seems a bit outdated," she added, motioning to the tacky, flowery wallpaper pasted against the wall.

"Welcome to the Uchiha clan," I told her, sarcastically.

She laughed, plopping down onto the edge of the bed and leaning back on her hands, "By the way, how old are you, Senbi-chan?"

"Seventeen," I replied.

"Wow," Takada managed to utter, bouncing up and down on the bed. "You're really young. Isn't this supposed to be an old lady's job?"

I winced, but managed to stay composed for the most part. It wasn't too uncommon of a question, all things considered. And I didn't take offense to it.

But it was the kind of question that made me reevaluate my career choice.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said quickly, the smile vanishing from her face. "I mean—well, you know. You don't usually see girls so young become caretakers, you know?"

Maybe it was different where she came from.

"Is it like that in Kumogakure?" I asked her.

"Well, usually, young girls go to school," Takada said, putting a finger to her lower lip. "And then they make their decision of what they want to be when they're sixteen. Most choose to become shinobi, actually."

"Oh," I stated dumbly in return.

I never wanted to admit it aloud, but I was almost jealous. Jealous of a bunch of girls I didn't know. Jealous because they had the opportunities I'd never have.

"Well," Takada trailed off. "I'm tired, so I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

Slowly, she stretched her arms out and yawned, "Nice and early."

"Good night, Narikaze-sama," I said, bowing slightly.

"Takada, please," she replied, giving me a wink. "Narikaze-sama makes me feel old. Like my dad."

I smiled halfheartedly, "Takada-san."

I decided to meet her halfway, and she seemed pretty satisfied with the answer.

* * *

After that, I retreated back to my room quietly.

I wanted to know why Takada was here, and why I was specifically chosen to be her caretaker, and why the Uchiha clan was dabbling in ties with Kumogakure.

I assumed she wouldn't be staying long, and I assumed she was probably here on political business, but there was something disturbing about how quickly she made herself at home.

But I suppose I couldn't complain. She seemed kind enough. A decent sense of humor. She was good-natured. That much, I could tell.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety I had. Something was off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Lost in thought, I bumped into a shadowy figure in the hallway. I stared down at the pair of feet, and apologized quickly before moving along.

"Oi, don't you ever watch where you're doing?"

I looked up. Madara. Shoot.

"What're you doing up so late?" We asked each other in unison.

I blushed and shifted my gaze to the courtyard, "I was escorting Takada-san to her room."

Suddenly, Madara frowned.

"Takada- _sama,_ " he corrected. "Don't address her so informally, idiot."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

Deciding to break the silence, I asked, "What about you?"

"None of your business," he snapped.

I scowled, "But I told you what _I_ was doing."

"So?"

"Usually, in a civil exchange between friends, you'd tell me what you were doing," I said, but I didn't know what else I could muster out to change his mind, considering how stubborn he looked.

Instead, I decided to turn the conversation elsewhere. "Do you know Takada-san?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" I echoed blankly. "That's it? When'd you two meet? Why is she here? How come you've never mentioned her before?"

Madara narrowed his eyes, "You ask too many questions."

"So I've heard," I said. "Anyway, do you know what she's doing here?"

"Like I said, it's none of your business."

I sighed, "You're impossible."

"So I've heard," Madara replied, mockingly.

I shot him a glare, "Fine. If you don't want to talk, then I'll leave."

"Good."

"Great."

" _Fantastic,_ " he spat.

I turned my heel and headed towards my room, slamming the door shut behind me.

* * *

I was unable to sleep that night.

Kaminori proved to be a huge distraction, along with my ineffective and futile research on Uchiha Miyabi—my father. Maybe it was the mystery of it all, or the enigma that kept me on edge, or maybe I was just trying to take my mind off that one thing that should've bothered me the most.

That goddamn _kiss_.

When the sun peeked through the window, I closed my eyes.

I'd really fucked up big time.

* * *

In the morning, I was sent to Takada's room, where I found her standing in front of a mirror, dressed in a gorgeous white kimono.

Not any ordinary kimono. A wedding kimono.

"It looks so beautiful on you, Takada-sama!" One of the girls cooed.

The kimono was a soft eggshell white with a few purple cheery blossoms stitched in from the bottom up. Takada's hair was pinned up, and a gold orchid was wrapped around the bun. Her hair was lined with crystals that almost passed off as raindew.

She looked so beautiful—ephemeral. Like some kind of goddess from the old paintings lined up in our shrines.

"What is this for?" I asked, still stupefied.

Everyone in the room—from the tailor, to the younger caretakers by Takada's side to Hana the elder—turned to look at me.

"Takada-sama is getting married!" One of the younger girls interrupted the uncomfortable silence.

"Today?" I echoed, unable to mask the mild tremor in my voice.

"Yes," Takada turned to face me with a halfhearted smile on her face.

She looked pained. Defeated. Desperation filled her brown eyes. Her voice was completely drained and empty—almost cold.

How could everyone in the room just ignore it?

Everyone went back to tending to her, and I just took a seat on the bed, staring at the debacle in confusion.

If Takada were getting married to someone in the clan, then it should've been a happy affair. But considering her status as a goddamn _princess_ and the nature of the visit, I could only assume that the marriage would be a political one. It wasn't uncommon in our clan, but I'd never actually seen a political marriage ceremony take place.

I wondered who she was going to marry.

From what I could gather, this meant that the Uchiha clan was forming an alliance with Kumogakure. And whoever was marrying Takada would be a lucky man.

For her sake, I hoped they could work through their marriage and learn to be happy with one another, despite the awkward setup. Despite my earlier misgivings, Takada seemed genuine. And I truly believed it'd be nice to have someone from outside the gates living in the compound. To have some fresh perspective around.

It'd be a good change.

* * *

Soon enough, we headed to the shrine, four men carrying Takada in hand drawn wooden cart.

"This seems a bit old fashioned, doesn't it?" She commented, raising the drapes slightly to meet my gaze.

I walked beside the cart and smiled a little, "Like I said, Takada-sama, welcome to the Uchiha clan."

She giggled a bit, brushing a lock of her brown hair behind her ear, "Didn't we agree you would call me Takada-san?"

"I would," I told her, motioning to Hana the elder, who was walking ahead of the cart, "except my employer is standing right there, so I'd rather not take the risk."

"Ah."

Takada shifted her gaze to her feet, a look of uncertainty crossing her delicate features, "To be honest, I'm a little nervous."

"For the wedding or everything that follows afterwards?" I asked.

"Both."

"Ah. I would be too if I were you," I breathed in deeply, suddenly feeling grateful that I would never been in her position. "but I'm not, so don't be. You look beautiful. And I'm sure everything will work out fine."

"I hope so," she replied.

When we arrived, the workers placed the cart on the ground softly.

"Head in first," Hana the elder, stated and motioned to the doors of the Shinto shrine with her boney fingers, "and make sure the groom isn't standing there."

"I'd actually prefer if Senbi-chan stayed with me," Takada stated softly, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Hana the elder looked surprised and glanced at me for a brief moment before turning back to Takada with a strained smile, "I suppose it can't be helped. Senbi," she turned to meet my gaze. "Take care of Takada while I check on the groom."

Hana the elder thrusted a red umbrella into my arms as she headed towards the shrine. Takada met my gaze and smiled wearily.

"Uchiha Hana," I said, opening the red umbrella over her head. "My employer—and one of the head elders of the Uchiha clan. She likes to bark out orders a lot."

Takada giggled, latching onto my arm as we walked towards the shrine.

* * *

Once I delivered Takada into the bride's room, I walked back into the main hall of the shrine, taking in the smell of incense. Dimly lit lights hung from the lower balcony, and there were hundreds of flowers arranged neatly down the aisle.

But then, I spotted Madara at the end of the hall, standing next to the shrine's priest.

"I stand here, correct?" He asked.

"Correct, Madara-sama," said the priest.

My breath hitched.

Madara…

Madara…was getting married today.

 _Madara_ was marrying _Takada_ today.

I didn't know what to feel.

I couldn't deny the little bit of apprehension, the little bit of confusion, and the little bit of resentment I felt. But at the same time, and rather ironically, I felt almost nothing—just emptiness and hollowness even though the realization hit me like a sack of bricks.

Part of me tried to deny the reality, but the better half of me decided to swallow the bitter pill of complete and utter disappointment.

From this distance, I met his gaze and looked away.

* * *

Eventually, the seats in the hall began to fill up with members of our clan and members of Kumogakure. A mix of blue and red robes segregated on either side of the hall. In the front row were the Uchiha elders, and from what I could surmise, Takada's parents.

The doors opened to reveal Takada, dressed in her beautiful white kimono.

She didn't bother greeting her family that showed up, stepping over the religious ritual without pause. From the look on her face, it looked like she was complacent. Cold. Rigid.

I watched the ceremony quietly from the upper balcony.

"Someone piss you off or something? From the look on your face, seems like someone might've murdered your dog."

Izuna appeared at the stairwell, walking over until he stood adjacent to me. He leaned casually against the railing of the balcony ledge, arms folded over his chest. His apathetic gaze looked over the audience members who'd shown up for the debacle.

"I'm fine," I said through my gritted teeth.

"You're lying," Izuna shot back, in almost a singsong tone.

"I'm not lying," I told him adamantly.

"Keep trying to convince yourself that."

Rolling my eyes, I shifted my gaze back to the ceremony that was happening below.

Madara and Takada stood across from one another at the end of the hall, neither of them making eye contact or exchanging any words. The only thing that could be heard was the priest's sermon echoing throughout the chamber of the Shinto shrine.

"Liars, liars lose their tongues," Izuna spat out the nursery rhyme as old as time.

"That's not something you should say about your brother," I told him.

"I was talking about you."

"Is that a threat?" I said with a smirk. "I somehow find that difficult to believe."

So the prospects of having my tongue physically cut out of my mouth didn't seem so inviting. But I had to stick up for myself in some way.

"You're obviously pissed off."

"Shut up!" I shouted, slamming my fists against the balcony ledge.

The sermon stopped suddenly.

Everyone in the audience, including Madara and Takada, looked up at me. Most people were staring up at me in confusion, but only Madara stared up with a small smirk on his face. I spun around, collapsing to my knees, hiding behind the balcony ledge. I tried desperately to hide the blush on my face.

"Like I said, mind your tongue, won't you?" Izuna stated casually with a half smile. "Seems like it has a tendency to get you in trouble."

I buried my face into my knees. _Go away_ , I wanted to tell him.

"Anyway, it's fine being pissed off," Izuna went onto say. "I mean, he didn't tell you about this stupid wedding, right? If it makes you feel any better, he didn't tell me either."

It wasn't the fact that he didn't tell me.

I overlooked that without pause. It was more so because I didn't know where I stood with him. I wasn't even sure what I wanted—but I could only get pissed off because it seemed obvious Madara didn't know what _he_ wanted at the same time. It was almost too easy to shift the blame when I was angry, and it wasn't something I could really help. Madara was an easy scapegoat.

"I kissed him."

For the first time, I watched Izuna blanch.

He crouched down slowly and took a seat next to me on the floor while the sermon continued in the backdrop. Our shoulders made contact but the feeling between us platonic and familiar. Despite our past altercations, there was no awkward tension between us.

We sat in silence for a while, and I felt a single tear slide down my cheek.

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"No," I denied without hesitation. But after recollecting the events in my mind, I shook my head. "To be honest, I don't know. I just…"

" **Could you hurry up**?" Madara's voice echoed throughout the entire shrine.

"O-Of course, Madara-sama," the priest replied meekly.

Izuna and I exchanged glances. No surprise there, considering Madara's temperament. A small smile formed on Izuna's lips and he shifted his gaze to his lap.

"I'll start off saying you're not crazy."

"R-Really?" I asked, slightly perplexed by his reaction.

"I mean, considering what happened over the past few weeks, you probably felt lonely. Madara was the only thing constant in your life," he said. "Of course you'd lean on him. It's only natural."

Some silence. I nodded slightly in acknowledgment, even though I wasn't sure I agreed.

"If anyone can handle Madara, it's the elders," Izuna continued. He met my gaze, "And you, Senbi."

The thought made me feel warm inside, if only for a little while.

I still didn't understand the full extent of my feelings—whether they were romantic, or if I had just fallen for him in the heat of the moment, like Izuna said.

The truth is, I thought about the kiss a lot. More than I really cared to admit. I thought about the kiss more than I thought about Kaminori—more than my father, Miyabi. More than my mother, Kiyo. But no matter what, I always came to the same conclusion.

Despite our circumstances, and despite my misgivings, and despite our history…the kiss never felt _wrong_.

Izuna could try to rationalize why I decided to do it. Sure, I was lonely—sure, I was sad…

But I don't think that's why I kissed him.

"Understand that if this continues," Izuna stated, a sudden shift in his tone, "it won't end well for you, Madara, or our clan."

My breath hitched.

"Tread lightly, Senbi."

* * *

The reception sped by like a blur.

I ended up sitting at the table behind Madara's, alongside the elders. Everyone was drunk on happiness and sake, and I was drunk on misery and sadness—the portrait of a girl unable to come to terms with her own reality. Call it: denial in the most shameless sense.

Eventually, I ended the night early, bidding farewell to the elders, avoiding Madara and Takada on the way out.

I returned to the compound alone.

* * *

The courtyard was empty.

I took a seat at the steps leading up to it and stared up at the sky, the moon round and full. A warm wind swept through.

All good omens for a wedding day.

I stared at the KIA stone in the distance and wondered what Kaminori was doing at this moment. We were living under the same moon and whenever I remembered that, he didn't feel so far away from me anymore.

The clan returned from the reception with smiles and laughter. Some of them were still drunk—some more drunk than others. Some of them came back way too rowdy. I suppose it seemed obvious that most of them took well to the newfound alliance between our clan and Kumogakure. But I still felt anxious about it.

Takada arrived soon enough, leaning on two girls.

Her beautiful brown hair was in disarray—like a bird's nest. Her kimono was slipping off her shoulder, revealing a defined collarbone and diamond necklace. Some vomit stuck on the corner of her lips.

I hesitated, looking to the two girls alongside her for some kind of explanation, but they only wore worry on their faces, tending to her in her drunken stupor.

"Takada had too much to drink," stated Hana the elder, walking up from behind. "She said she wanted to speak with you."

At that moment, Madara sauntered by, completely ignoring his incapacitated wife. I looked at him over my shoulder as he vanished into the corridor without a trace.

Nodding slowly in acknowledgment, I took Takada myself and led her to her room.

* * *

I changed Takada into her sleeping robes and figured she could worry about the leftover makeup and jewelry tomorrow morning.

She blabbered on about the reception. Something, something, Madara had been uptight and difficult to get along with, despite his supposed handsomeness and physical stature. I think that might've been an obvious concept to grab at first sight, but maybe she was upset because she realized that this would be the man she'd be spending the rest of her life with.

But Takada didn't get far until she turned the conversation, ranting about how much the Uchiha elders doted over her—how uncomfortable she felt being pinched in the cheeks. Something, something, _irritation_ ; something, something, _bullshit_.

I suppose being drunk only brought out the hidden candidness in people.

"Perverted old men," she snapped, suddenly.

I took in everything slowly, but I didn't have much to say. In the end, talking to a drunk was pointless. It wasn't like she'd remember this conversation by tomorrow morning.

"Why are you so nice to me, Senbi-chan?" Takada asked, suddenly.

"You're drunk," I told her softly, tucking her into bed.

"I _know_ that," she said, words completely slurred.

It didn't take long for her head to hit the pillow. She fell asleep almost too quickly, the beads of crystals still dangling from her hair like rain drops. It took me a moment to realize those crystals would probably be worth more than my life.

The truth is, I felt sorry for Takada. I really did. She was completely and utterly alone in our clan. It was hard enough living as a member of the Uchiha—it'd be even harder to live as a stranger. I suppose the riches and lavish extravagance made up for some of the trials she'd have to face, but even then, I couldn't imagine what she had to go through.

Being forced into a marriage she didn't want.

Being forced to marry _Madara_ without really understanding him.

" _Nagisa_ …" Takada murmured softly in her sleep.

Nagisa?

The name sounded familiar, but I shook the thought off.

* * *

On my way back, I hesitated outside Madara's room, wondering what he was doing right now.

Usually, married couples shared a room on their wedding night, but I suppose with Takada's drunken stupor, that tradition was probably laid to rest. Madara wasn't really the traditional type, anyway.

" _How long do you plan on standing outside and waiting_?"

I flinched at the sound of his voice. My fingertips grazed the doorknob and I hesitated slightly before I decided to twist it open.

I entered the room and met Madara's gaze.

He was removing his wedding attire.

"Help me," he commanded.

This should've been a job for one of his many shinobi apprentices, but I figured it was late, and I happened to be here.

So I stayed silent. I stayed silent—and my silence terrified me.

I walked forward, and helped him loosen the onbi tied around his waist. Then, I pulled off the outer black kimono with our clan insignia stitched into the backside. The next layer that came off with the under kimono.

And then, skin.

Madara had scars almost everywhere. Sort of like a personal roadmap of his history and strife. Some scars were deeper than others—and there were a couple that still looked fresh in his skin.

I hesitated a moment before reaching up and letting my fingertips graze the one particularly long gash on his collarbone.

Maybe it was the tension—maybe it was because I wasn't really thinking at all. The truth is, touching him felt instinctive, as if I didn't really need to think about it at all.

"Do they still hurt?" I asked softly.

Madara laughed, "No. They don't."

I pressed down deep on a rather new scar, and he sucked in a deep breath, grabbing me by the wrist. I laughed nervously, pulling back.

Turning away, he removed his pants by himself, leaving a pair of black slacks reaching down to his knees.

"You can stop staring," he said.

"I'm not staring," I lied, walking towards the door before things got out of hand. "If you don't need anything else, I'll get going."

"Why bother?" Madara snorted, folding up his pants and tossing them on his bed. "It's not like you have anything better to do."

"That's really presumptuous of you," I snapped, looking over my shoulder. "Considering the fact that you know next to _nothing_ about me."

"I've known you for nearly half a year. I think I know you pretty well," he replied tartly. "Even the most personal, _intimate_ things about you."

I turned around and met his gaze, folding my arms over my chest, "Like what."

"Like the way you kiss," he stated casually.

Madara was teasing me. Messing with me. And he was enjoying it.

Anger boiled in my veins and I resisted the urge to send a slap across his face.

"Screw you," I told him, opening the door to his bedroom in one swift motion.

Suddenly, Madara appeared right next to me, slamming the door shut just as quickly as it opened.

My breath hitched in my throat and I felt his hot breath against my neck.

I shifted my gaze to meet his, "You really are the most insensitive—most idiotic—most _stupid_ -most imbecilic—"

Madara grabbed me by my chin.

No smirk this time. No smile.

He looked like he wanted to devour me.

Next thing I knew, he pressed his lips against mine. He was rough, his tongue probing deep inside my mouth.

And despite it all, despite all the bullshit I'd been through, and despite all the stupid warnings my mother gave me, I kissed him back and pulled him closer to me.

Madara ripped off the onbi tied around my waist. Then, he tore a slit into the side of my kimono, hiking it up until my underdress was clearly visible.

Without hesitation, he reached up and pulled off my underwear, lifting my left leg around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, feeling soft skin underneath my fingertips. It took him almost no effort to carry me over to his bed.

He put me down, brushing off the wedding attire to the floor and leaning over me.

His fingers teased the entrance between my legs. I was already wet—that much was certain. A look of satisfaction dawned on Madara's face when he realized this, and I blushed, feeling a little embarrassed.

Then, in one motion, he slipped his finger deep inside me. I gasped slightly, feeling the warmth of his other hand rubbing slowly against my more sensitive nub.

"You're tight," he said, huskily.

" _Madara_ …I…"

"Sh…"

Then, he proceeded to completely rip apart the rest of my kimono, revealing nearly everything. He leaned down and pressed a number of light kisses against my collarbone and I sucked in a deep breath, feeing raw and exposed.

"Madara," I breathed his name.

He cupped his hands around my breasts, kneading them softly while he started a trail of kisses down my abdomen.

Eventually, he reached my inner thigh.

I could feel his hot breath between my legs.

The anticipation made me anxious. A bubble of excitement formed in my stomach, but despite the nervousness, nothing ever felt out of place or _wrong_.

"Madara— _ah!_ "

His tongue probed the sensitive nub between my legs. I felt the heat rise deep into my stomach like some kind of goddamn inferno of pleasure. The hot wetness of his mouth pressed up against me—kneading slowly, and tortuously.

I gasped as he kneaded faster with his tongue, slipping one finger deep inside of me as he continued on. I sucked in another deep breath, feeling tickle of intense pleasure build inside me.

"Madara—… _please_."

He slid one hand underneath my back as I hit my peak, feeling a wave of complete and _utter_ euphoria wash over my entire body. A picture of Madara formed in my mind, and I couldn't fathom how freaking _goddamn_ attractive he was and how _goddamn_ fast I was falling for him.

…until everything stopped. And until it all passed.

I cupped my hands around his face, bringing him up.

I stared up into his eyes, making out the three black spirals in his pretty red irises.

"Madara…"

He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned away, feeling his lips make contact with my left cheek. The tears began to well up in my eyes.

"You're married now," I told him softly.

The tears spilled.

At once, the realization dawned on his face and his initial smirk vanished into a frown. The red disappeared from his eyes and he clenched his fists tightly, letting out grunt of irritation.

"You don't think I know that?" Madara snapped angrily, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

He leaned forward, propping his elbows against his thighs. I pushed myself up from where I was laying, never quite removing my gaze from his back.

Another giant roadmap of scars.

There was one that was particularly deep near his lower ribs, the discolored mark somewhat of a stain on his otherwise porcelain skin. I touched the crease, grazing it with my fingertips from one end to the other.

Then, I pressed the side of my face against his naked back, feeing his warmth against my cheek.

Madara's breathing hitched for only a moment before it evened out.

"I'm sorry, Senbi," he said.

I closed my eyes.

It was the first time he'd ever apologized to me.

* * *

 **note** : Okay, okay. A lot happened. And this is the first time I've ever written smut. Dx Not sure how the readers will take it. Lmk because if you guys are okay with it. If not, I'll probably rewrite this scene and spare your eyes from future smut (make it implied instead of explicit)

I'll assume silence means "we don't like it. Plz no more smut." lol


	8. Takada

_Review response time_!

Misora Uchiha: The "help me" was more of a command than anything. :D it probably came off strange but I intended it to be more demanding, rather than helpless hehe.

satsuma-chan: I tried to imply that he kept it secret from Izuna and Senbi, and not from the entire clan. Obviously the Uchiha elders were in on it all :D It was more to show how ignorant Senbi could be from the true politics going on behind the scenes, despite working for the one guy who's at the center of everything. But that's going to change soon ^^

Holly B: Hello! I've missed you hehe. But yeah, I think a lot of writers write Madara as an "experienced" playboy, but I don't think that's going to be the case here. At least, I want to delve into his character before he makes such a transformation because I don't want him to turn into a caricature :D

Ninjagirl2211: Thank you D: I was really worried because that was my first smut scene and I didn't want it to come off...cheesy, if that makes sense. Yes, it's a rewrite of the old one. :D And yay I'm glad. I wanted Takada to be relatable, at least, for the time being.

* * *

8

 _Takada_

* * *

Madara and I were enveloped in complete silence. Since my kimono had been completely torn apart in the mess of what'd happened, he'd tossed me one of his casual robes. It was large on me, the sleeves enveloping my hands, and the fabric sinking deep beneath my chest. I managed to hold things together with my hands, albeit a bit lazily.

He spared me a quick glance from the corner of his eye.

I wanted to say something— _anything_ , really. But instead, I turned around, stepped out his room, and closed the door behind me without another word. I was trying desperately to quell any thoughts of what could've been.

* * *

The compound halls were empty. Nearly 4am in the morning, everyone was asleep.

I turned the corridor, heading towards my room.

Chiaki.

Her bangs were pinned back with a clip, and her sleeping mask was pulled up onto her forehead. She looked sleepy and lackadaisical, as if she weren't quite aware of her surroundings. When our gazes met, a smile lit up on her face—a smile that didn't last long before it was slowly replaced by realization.

Chiaki's eyes darted to the black robes I was wearing—too large and alien for my small frame.

I didn't give her time to respond before I bolted straight into the nearest room, slamming the door shut behind me.

* * *

The nearest room turned out to be the public onsen in our compound.

Since almost no one was awake at this time, I figured it wouldn't be a big deal if I took a hot bath and meditated on what just happened. The truth is, I felt dirty, used, and pathetic. Sure, this bath might've been a metaphorical cleansing of my conscience, but that didn't take away from the fact that I was physically in need of one.

My hair was oily. A thin layer of sweat covered my entire body. And I was still wet between the legs.

I untied the onbi from around my waist, followed by the layer of the black robes Madara lent me. The cotton cloth peeled off from my hot, sticky skin, and I left the clothing in a puddle on the floor, grabbing a towel from the basket nestled by the doorway entrance. I wrapped it around my torso and stepped into the giant bath.

The hot water was searing against my skin, and I eased into all at once. I submerged myself completely underwater, letting the pain linger and eventually settle. When I surfaced, I leaned back into the wall of the bath, staring ahead into the empty, steam-filled room.

"Oi."

I tensed up, turning around to find Izuna standing behind me, completely naked with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Izuna was lean—and Madara was bulkier. It struck me that I was probably comparing two sides of the same coin, but it was difficult to actually remove one brother from the other without making comparisons.

"You scared me," I told him, nodding slightly. "Izuna-sama."

"Izuna-san, if you're going to use honorifics," he pointed out nonchalantly, stepping into the bath and taking a seat next to me in the water.

"Why are you up so late?" I asked.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied.

"I've had a long day," I told him. "And I need a bath. What about you?"

"Me too," Izuna stated airily, brushing a hand through his long, dark hair. "The elders have been talking my ear off about a summit they're holding next week."

"A summit?" I echoed curiously, observing the small waves in the water as I leaned forward. "Who's going?"

"A number of our neighboring clans," he replied, brushing his hand noncommittally in the water, small circles lapping outwards in waves.

"And the Senju Clan?"

Izuna grunted audibly, closing his eyes.

I suppose I'd take that response as a yes.

His arm barely brushed against mine, and I tilted my head, looking over to him before brushing a lock of my hair behind my ear. At first glance, he might've passed off as _pissed off_ or angry.

I frowned, wondering why Madara hadn't even mentioned the summit to me at all.

"The Waterfall Country also decided it would be a good time to send over three pandas," he snorted, relaxing into the water, "as diplomatic gifts."

"Did you accept them?" I asked.

"Obviously."

I bit my lower lip.

Izuna seemed to sense something was wrong because he opened his eyes and glanced over with a pensive stare. Arching an eyebrow in slight confusion, he asked, "Why? You don't think we should've?"

"I didn't say that," I said quickly.

"If there's something wrong, then just say it. You have a knack for beating around the bush like it's a damn forest," Izuna replied dispassionately, sinking lower into the water until his chin touched the surface. "It's pretty annoying."

"It's just that—doesn't the Waterfall Country have close ties to the Senju Clan?" I asked carefully, thinking back to the number of documents I sifted through in the library.

"Yes—hence the pandas," he stated. "As a gesture of goodwill and diplomacy."

I frowned, "But the Waterfall Country did this with the Grass Country before. They sent them pandas as gifts to throw them off, and the next week, they pincered them on both sides with the Hyuuga Clan. Now, the Grass Country is territory belonging to the Waterfall Country."

"We have no reason to believe they'd do the same thing with our clan," Izuna stated calmly.

"But the Senju Clan hadn't been involved with them at all until two months ago," I told him. "And if something _does_ happen, we'll be pincered in on both sides. Just like the Grass Country."

Izuna paused, staring deep into the water.

He arched his neck back slightly, trying to relieve the muscles in his neck. It'd probably been a while since he had time to relax, and I'm sure my attempt to unload a truck of information didn't help.

Still, I couldn't shake the nagging suspicion I had. Giving rare and exotic animals as gifts was a traditional form of diplomacy between countries and clans as old as time. The Waterfall Country, as small as they were, sat at a locational advantage by the ocean.

Underneath it?

The Fire Country. The country where the Uchiha Clan and Senju Clan were located.

The Uchiha Clan sat right underneath the Waterfall Country and on top of the Senju Clan, which meant we were at a locational disadvantage if either party ever decided to form an alliance and invade on both fronts.

"Come with us to the summit," Izuna stated suddenly. "I think you'll be pretty useful there."

* * *

"Happy birthday!"

Opening my eyes warily, I found Chiaki standing by my bedside with a thousand watt smile on her face. Her arms were outstretched in front of me and sitting in her small hands was some sort of box.

Sunlight sifted through the blinds of my window. I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes, trying to wake up my tired eyes and full body exhaustion.

Ah, _right_.

It was my birthday, and the thought managed to actually slip my mind.

The truth is, I didn't celebrate the tradition with many people. There weren't many traditions I held close at all. When the day came, Kaa-san would usually cook a grander, more traditional dinner and Kaminori would bring me a single white rose.

My family didn't have much—and Kaminori knew this too.

Pipe dreams, I suppose—considering the fact that he was gone now.

"Thank you," I managed to say, taking the box hesitantly from Chiaki's hands.

"It isn't much," she admitted sheepishly, scratching the side of her cheek. Her eyes darted from the box to the floor while a blush rose on her face. "But I thought it could help out your situation."

"My situation?" I echoed faintly, still perplexed that she'd gone out of her way to get me something for my birthday.

"Go ahead," Chiaki beamed cheerfully, gesturing to the box with her hands. "Open it."

I tore off the pink ribbon adorned on top of the box and lifted the lid slowly.

Arching an eyebrow in confusion, I stared at the sewing kit inside the box. A rainbow of threads lined up alongside a thin needle.

"I saw that you were having money problems," Chiaki said softly, "and that you were borrowing the clothes that Kaminori-san left over. I hoped that this sewing kit could help you make something more form fitting."

I knitted my brows, "Borrowing Kaminori-kun's clothes…?"

Chiaki stared at me with wide eyes, "I saw you wearing them last night. Before you ran into the bath," she giggled slightly.

Ah.

She was talking about Madara's clothes. Classic misunderstanding, but it'd worked out for me in the best way.

I bit my lower lip and forced the best smile I could manage, "Thank you, Chiaki-san. That's incredibly generous of you."

"Of course," she chirped happily. "I really hope you have a happy birthday, Senbi-san."

* * *

After Chiaki departed the room, I tended to my morning routine. My skin felt refreshed from the hot bath I took last night and I tried not to dwell too much on what happened before that.

I was the kind of person who thrived when I was put on a routine schedule. And I was almost certain if I tried hard enough, things would return to normal.

* * *

I walked in circles outside Madara's office, unable to muster up the courage to open the door.

It reminded me a lot of how I first met him, and how I'd waste all that time waiting outside the door in uncertainty. I think—and perhaps, this was rather stupid on my end—I was afraid of him. For a while, at least. Afraid, because I only knew and believed the rumors I'd heard about him from the clan.

Sucking in a deep breath, I twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

…Takada.

She was standing next to Madara behind his desk, propping herself against the wooden surface with a clenched fist. She was wearing a triumphant smile on her face that I couldn't quite discern. The kind of look like she'd been winning an important argument. And when I shifted my gaze to Madara, I only saw irritation and anger.

At this moment, I hesitated by the frame of the doorway, taking a step back, "I'm sorry. I'll leave—"

"No need," Takada stated cheerfully.

The last time I saw her, she'd been in a drunken stupor. She was devastated by the wedding; she was emotionally closed off. It seemed she'd made a quick recovery.

"Senbi. From this day on," Madara stated, "you'll be—"

"—working for _me_ ," Takada interjected without hesitation, "forever."

I tried to say something, but my mouth went dry. But for once, the words didn't pull through. I shifted my gaze from Madara to Takada.

 _Forever_ , she'd said. I knew she'd taken a liking to me when we first met, but I couldn't imagine it'd go this far. She seemed completely unaware of the tension in the room. And why should she be suspicious? After all, she knew nothing about us. To her, I was just some poor caretaker girl.

"Oh," I finally managed to utter.

That was all I could say in response. _Oh_ , for God's sake.

"Let's head to the marketplace," Takada said, leaning on the edge of the desk with her hip, "and we'll pick out something nice for your birthday."

"It's your birthday?" Madara echoed vaguely, looking up from the paperwork stacked on his desk.

It was the first time he addressed me since I entered the room. Slightly peeved by the fact that he hadn't even bothered to meet my gaze, I responded, rather unwillingly, "Yes."

"Shouldn't you at least tell her happy birthday, Madara-kun?" Takada asked, knitting her brows.

"Hm."

He stayed relatively silent, averting his gaze back to his paperwork.

Takada relented an exasperated sigh, staring at her husband in disbelief. He didn't know it was my birthday, and I didn't blame him for that. After all, it wasn't an event I looked forward to celebrating anyway. I figured there were more important things to worry about, anyway.

"Anyway, I'll see you later," Takada told him, the corners of her lips tipping up to form a smile.

Then, she leaned down and pecked him on the cheek.

Madara's face flushed red almost instantaneously.

Before he could reply, Takada walked towards the door, tugging on my sleeve. I took one last look at him before turning away, and he still didn't bother meeting my gaze before I closed the door.

* * *

The marketplace was huge.

It turned out to be one of the rare areas of the forest that was completely cleared out, leading directly to our northern gates. It gathered merchants from nearly every known country, an area of diffusion so expansive that I almost forgot that there was an ongoing battle outside the gates we hid behind.

There were rumors flying around that people in our clan made secret alliances here, but I usually took these rumors at face value. They were only rumors, after all. Nothing more than fallacies wrapped up in pieces of gossip we wanted to hear. And I knew how dangerous rumors could be.

"Wow," Takada muttered under her breath. "There's so many stalls."

I looked around the main road, taking in the lively atmosphere and crowd. It'd been a while since I actually went out of my way to peruse the marketplace. Being in crowded areas wasn't something I really ventured to do in my spare time. I preferred peace and quiet. Whenever I did come here, I'd never leave with my feet unscathed.

"Ah, it's so beautiful!" Takada chimed, motioning to a particularly vibrant cobalt blue yukata hanging up in one of the stalls.

I had to agree. The design was simple. White cherry blossoms were stitched into the seams, and the design wasn't too outrageous or flamboyant. Something I would wear if I could afford something so pretty.

"I'll take it," Takada stated, waving for the shopkeeper to come over.

For a while, that's exactly what we did. She could afford these things without batting an eyelash. The vendors were more than happy to meet her request.

"You know, Kumogakure doesn't really have anything like this," she admitted, playing with a lock of her long brown hair.

The bags of clothing she bought hung heavily from my hands, the straps digging into the palm of my hands. I stared ahead at the main road while Takada lagged behind, observing each stall with a slight glaze in her eyes.

"Really?" I asked, feigning interest. "Why is that?"

The two of us entered a quieter area of the marketplace and ordered a couple of onigri from the food hut nearby. Takada took a seat on one of the flat stones on the ground, and I cringed uneasily, thinking about the moss residue that would stain her beautiful yellow kimono. Unfortunately, I'd have to follow suit, knowing it'd be disrespectful if I remained standing while my employer was sitting down.

I sighed softly, taking a seat beside her on the stone.

"I like you, Senbi-chan," Takada stated suddenly. "You're a pretty honest girl."

Honest.

The irony was unreal, and I felt my stomach do a flip. I was guilty and I suppose the only thing that offset the complete and utter pain was the fact that I hadn't been caught red handed. What happened between me and Madara was a mistake—a stupid, one time mistake—and I figured it would pass off that way.

Takada's brown eyes glazed over the marketplace with a look of complete and utter apathy, "I don't know if I ever told you, but I used to be a complete nobody in Kumogakure."

Nobody? She was a goddamn _princess_. A gorgeous, kind, and good-humored princess. I wanted to scream this to her—to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. To let he know she'd have more opportunities than anybody in the word.

A half smile formed on Takada's face. She looked like she was mulling something over. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips before she finally continued, "My older sister, Suzume, overshadowed me. The heiress to the throne. I suppose I could've tried harder if I needed to, but I guess I'm not very lucky when it comes to politics."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Takada hunched over her knees, staring at the line of ants crossing the dirt path in front of her feet. "I just didn't find it interesting," she admitted indifferently. "So I didn't bother trying."

"Oh."

A moment of silence sifted through, and I observed Takada from the corner of my eye.

A small smile flitted to her lips and she pressed the bottom of her sandal into the dirt path, crushing three ants and halting the assembly line. The ants scrambled, dispersing in a frenzy.

"What's your sister like?" I asked.

"She's a bitch," Takada replied distastefully, "but she's my sister, so I guess I have to love her. Even though I'm here because of her."

I hesitated, unsure of how to reply. Sometimes, I found that silence was the best choice in the face of uncertainty.

"I had a fiancé," she continued, "named Nagisa."

It occurred to me, at some point, that she was divulging her deepest, most intimate feelings. Takada didn't have a reason to tell me thing unless she really, _truly_ trusted me. I suppose it was also a bit of pointless conversation, but the fact that she confessed so eagerly—and so willingly—must've meant that she'd been holding this all in for a long time.

And she was right. Who did I have to tell anyway?

"We were going to run away together," Takada said with a soft sigh, propping an elbow on her thigh. A look of skepticism was written on her delicate features. "Elope. Or whatever. Sounds stupid, right?"

Kaminori quickly came to mind. I'd imagined marrying him more often than I'd like to admit—not because I wanted to fulfill one of the many clichés of normal life, but because I could genuinely see myself being with him.

Forever.

"But now I'm here," Takada interrupted my train of thought. She scarfed down the remains of her onigri, a piece of rice tacking on the corner of her lips. "I really used to hate living in that prison, but now, I'd give almost anything to be back. Doesn't that sound crazy?"

"It's not," I told her.

Takada stared at me, looking mildly perplexed at my quick response. But that initial perplexed confusion melted into a look of complete disappointment.

She relented a soft sigh and collapsed back onto the flat stone, "I guess it's funny how things work out."

Some silence sat between us. I nibbled slowly on the last onigri in my hands but I found it difficult to actually stomach it. Despite the fact that I'd skipped breakfast, I just didn't have an appetite.

"It must be difficult," I tried to pick my words carefully, "to be in this arranged marriage."

Takada scoffed, sitting up straight, "Actually, I'm glad you brought that up. It reminded me I had something to say to you."

I bit my lower lip.

The Takada I met on the first day had a rather sunny disposition, but it seemed that had changed drastically on our outing today. She _couldn't_ have known about me and Madara; at least, that's what I told myself. All logic pointed to her being ignorant.

But why did I get the feeling she wasn't letting on what she knew?

"I wanted to thank you. For everything, really. I didn't know anyone here, and you've been a good friend to me," Takada said with a sweet smile. "But I wanted you to know the man I have to love now is Uchiha Madara."

From the side, she lifted the bag with the cobalt blue yukata she'd bought earlier on and inched it forward until it sat right next to me.

"For you, Senbi-chan."

* * *

There were a number of things racing through my mind.

On our way home, I held onto the blue yukata close to my chest, albeit reluctantly. Takada had attempted to make conversation, but I couldn't find it in myself to converse with her naturally.

What she'd said to me in the marketplace seemed to have been a veiled threat, which meant she probably knew something.

Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe I was reading too deeply into things. The truth is, being around Takada made me feeling anxious. Almost as if she could see right through me.

After I dropped off Takada in her room, I walked towards my own.

Without thinking, I bumped into a rather tall figure in the shadowed corridors. When I looked up, half my heart expected it to be Madara, but it turned out to be Daichi, one of Izuna's apprentices. We greeted each other briefly before heading on our separate ways.

* * *

When I returned to my own room, I closed the door behind me gently. The cold breeze sifted through the open window and kissed my hot skin.

I threw the bag with the cobalt yukata towards the corner of the room before turning aroung and loosening the onbi tied around my kimono.

That was when I noticed the bouquet of flowers sitting on my bed.

 _"You could really use some color in your office. I mean—don't you have hundreds of flowers in your garden? Go get some and make a bouquet. You seem like the kind of guy who'd enjoy ikebana."_

 _"Killing flowers for the sake of some temporary aesthetic is stupid."_

 _"I happen to like flowers."_

I smiled a little as the memory from a while ago came back to me.

But as I came closer to my bed, I noticed that the bouquet wasn't any ordinary bouquet.

It was a bouquet of white roses.

The same white roses Kaminori promised to bring me once upon a time.

 _"When we see each other again, promise me something. Give me a kiss back, okay?"_

* * *

End note: If you want a recap of the flashback quotes, check out Chapter 4: Blue, where the conversation took place. Also, thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter Dx you guys are seriously the best. I felt so motivated to write ;_; this chapter didn't include too much Madara, but next chapter is pretty action packed.

Tobirama and Hashimara will be making appearances, and Takada is going to show some more...interesting colors. And more Madara~ Anyway, who do you think gave the flowers? Madara or Kaminori? :3


	9. The Summit

satsuma-chan: Takada is torn between her responsibilities and her desires. But because of Senbi's limited worldview, she fails to really make sense of this, or sees this clearly. Instead, she sees two different sides of Takada, which comes across rather bipolar or inconsistent. :) And yeah, I think I definitely failed to make Kaminori more compelling (LOL sorry _) but in the prior iteration of this story, he plays a pretty integral role later on. Senbi had to go through her mother's death and Kaminori's disappearance and the incident with Madara, so she's definitely prioritizing her feelings differently, if anything, a bit stupidly. :D

Yerin: Thank you! I definitely did not want Takada to fall into a trope. :P So I tried to make her as complex as possible, within Senbi's worldview, of course. Hehe.

Holly B: In the Uchiha Clan, there is a desperate lack of healthy relationships. At least, that's how I wanted to portray it! Haha. But I'm glad :) I definitely wanted the relationship between Izuna and Senbi to be dynamic, despite their philosophical disagreements. And I can definitely see him as that kind of flower, considering how deceptive it is :D Nice headcanon~

* * *

9

 _The Summit_

* * *

Our trip to the summit took two days.

Following the suggestions of the elders, I brought thicker clothing for the trip. A long blue cape, along with a thicker onbi for my waist. Although it wasn't my first time seeing snow, I was still astonished by the tranquil blankness of our surroundings. The crunch of the snow underneath my feet felt foreign, at first, but it didn't take me long to adapt to it.

The cold wind might've been cutting, but I felt at ease.

"You'll be attending meetings tomorrow with Mifune," Izuna said, walking up beside me on his horse.

With his hand, he gestured to a balding man up ahead with a thick goatee growing on his chin. Then, he motioned to the moving cart alongside us, where the elders were sitting, "Elder Hana, Kiyo, and me."

I nodded in acknowledgment, sparing a quick glance to the horse Madara was seated on. A black stallion, which seemed almost too cliché and trite to be reality. But somehow, it seemed rather befitting for a man like him.

Next to him was Takada, riding on top of a beautiful white horse. A long red cape draped over her shoulders. She wore a smile on her face like the biting wind didn't even matter. She might've been able to fool anyone with that smile.

"Oi, Senbi. Are you listening?"

Izuna waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my daze.

"Yes," I said.

"Remember to introduce yourself as an advisor," he added, staring solemnly ahead with narrowed eyes, "and _not_ a caretaker."

* * *

The summit was grand.

A huge white building sat on the edge of a cliff atop an obscure mountain. And dozen statues led through the gated entrance until we reached the open doors—which were trimmed with gold. I stared up in mild fascination, trying not to slip down the steps.

The hall was ornate, stapled with paintings of dragons and gods against the ceiling walls. Gold linings decorated the beams, and statues of soldiers were settled on either side of the red carpet leading deep into the hall. A dozen or so flags hugged the wall, with an assortment of clan insignias stitched into the cloth. At the centerpiece was the Senju Clan insiginia.

I recognized our clan insignia almost immediately—a picture of a red and white fan stitched into a navy blue cloth. The flag sat at the opposite end of the hall,farther away from the rest.

Hundreds of people flooded the area—some dressed more lavishly than others.

There were probably representatives from every single country and clan here. I tried to keep track of the colorful yukatas and clan insignias floating around the hallway, but instead, I was bumped against the shoulder by a random passerby, snapping me out of my daze.

Instinctively, I apologized under my breath, running towards the group of blue robes that'd walked off in the distance. Unfortunately, I managed to lose track of my clan.

When I caught sight of Izuna, I quickly ran up beside him, slowing down to walk.

"Got lost?" Izuna asked, a small smirk forming on his lips.

"Sorry about that," I said. "Pretty difficult to walk through seas of people."

"The world seems pretty big outside our compound gates, doesn't it?" He said.

"Big doesn't begin to describe it," I admitted with a smile.

It was only then that I realized Madara and Takada were walking in front of us.

Many people seemed to recognize the latter, greeting her briefly before disappearing behind us. Takada bid hello to everyone with a warm smile, and a polite wave. A social butterfly, or some derivative of it. She was good in these kind of settings. I figured years of being a princess could do that to someone.

Madara couldn't be more different, staring ahead indifferently with half-lidded eyes.

"Unpack your things, and rest. Take a bath—or a nap," Izuna suggested as we stepped by into a smaller, darker corridor further away from the main hall. "The opening banquet is tonight, so you should get ready for that. Wear something nice."

"I thought the banquet was for select leaders of each clan and country," I said. "Am I even allowed to go?"

"You're going as my guest," Izuna stated simply.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me first?" I said with a mock sigh.

"Care to object?" He shot back, a devilish smirk forming on his lips.

"I just thought that you'd might want to invite your girlfriend or something," I told him.

Although he never disclosed that kind of information to me, I always assumed he had a girlfriend—or at least, some suitors.

Izuna snorted, "If I invited my girlfriend to this kind of function, she'd probably die of boredom."

"Ah, apparently there is an elusive girlfriend," I said.

His cheeks tinged the faintest shade of pink, "I was speaking hypothetically."

" _Of course_ you were," I grinned.

"You have time to talk about such trivial things?" Madara snapped suddenly, still staring ahead.

Takada paused in the midst of a greeting, glancing over at me before shifting her gaze ahead, "Don't be a killjoy, _anata_."

 _Anata_.

So they were addressing each other informally now. I suppose that was only natural, considering the fact that they were husband and wife. I tried to gauge Madara for some kind of response, but he only stared ahead indifferently.

"Apologies," I muttered softly under my breath. "It won't happen again, Madara-sama."

He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes before looking ahead once again.

Izuna narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze from his elder brother over to me, probably trying to digest the situation. The tension was palpable, and I'm sure that was apparent to him.

I glanced at the wave of people walking in the opposite direction towards the front entrance. Our clan, all dressed in navy blue, walked against the tide, towards the corridors. There were a couple of stares here and there, but it seemed that no one really cared enough to acknowledge our arrival.

Madara and Takada walked at the helm, leading us forward.

The crowd parted in half as they walked through.

"How come everyone is walking the other way?" I asked.

"They're waiting at the entrance to greet the Senju Clan. A representative from every clan and country goes," Izuna replied stiffly. "A pointless tradition, to be honest."

"Oh," I said, still stupefied by the number of people heading towards the front entrance. "Shouldn't we send someone as well?"

Madara snorted.

I arched a brow in confusion, "Am I missing something?"

"Haven't you noticed?" Izuna cocked his head to the side, with a wry smile on his lips. "We're not the kind of clan that follows tradition."

* * *

It took five minutes for me to unpack my belongings. I didn't have much to begin with, other than clothing and toiletries.

Although Takada had suggested taking a bath at the hot springs a mile over from the summit, I decided to forgo the relaxation, and prepare myself to head toward the front entrance where the greeting would take place. Since no one else from our clan wanted to go, I decided that I could at least see what all the fuss was about.

I pulled on a traditional navy blue yukata with a Uchiha insignia sewn into the backside. I cinched a white onbi around my waist and pulled my hair into a loose bun.

By the time I arrived, the entrance was already lined up with a number of different clans and countries, each wearing their rightful insignias. Like Izuna mentioned, our clan turned out to be completely absent from the festivities.

Most of the clans and countries huddled together in uniform groups. A cacophony of chatter spilled into the air. Despite the fact that it was near freezing, the atmosphere was warm and inviting—a bubble of excitement against the backdrop of a winter palace.

I felt awkward standing in the company of strangers, but that awkwardness quickly subsided as I found solace in knowing that I'd at least satisfy my curiosity. Maybe I shouldn't have come to greet the Senju Clan. But I figured they probably wouldn't notice me anyway among the cluttered crowd.

They were our archival, after all. To Izuna, they might as well have been mortal enemies. There were many rumors spread throughout our compound about how terrifying Hashirama and Tobirama were on the battlefield. There were even more rumors about Madara's ill-fated rivalry with Hashirama.

I shivered, feeling the cold wind kiss the open neck of my yukata. I hadn't expected to wait this long and I'd severely underestimated the current conditions of the weather. Looking around, I found that almost everyone was huddled in their own selective group, waiting with bated breath.

Although I was bumping shoulders with strangers, I realized I was ultimately alone.

* * *

The gates opened with a groan.

Hashirama entered through, riding on top of a brown horse. A smile formed on his face as the chatter around me erupted into a round of applause. He lifted an arm and waved at the crowd, stepping off his horse and heading towards the steps.

Following behind Hashirama was his younger brother, Tobirama. He dismounted from his horse, brushing the snow off the fur trim lined against his jacket hood. I recognized him almost immediately from the stark white hair and dark red eyes, glazed with indifference as he glanced over the cheering crowd.

A woman wearing an ornate gold crowd stepped off from her own horse. Her bright red hair was pinned up in two buns. She looked stern, but not indignant, as she headed through the crowd behind Hashirama and Tobirama. I recognized her as Mito, Hashirama's wife.

There was some hand-shaking, some laughter, and some gifts exchanged. I suppose their clan was rather revered. It made me wonder why our clan stood at such an opposite end.

Suddenly, Mito's gaze met mine. Her eyes widened slightly and she whispered something to her husband. He shifted his gaze to me, a smile forming on his face.

Before I could process what was happening, Hashirama completely vanished from sight. The crowd simmered down to a complete hush and I glanced around, wondering where exactly he disappeared to.

Suddenly, he manifested in front of me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and lifting me several feet into the air.

I barely managed to catch my breath as he set me back down onto the ground. It took me a moment to process the fact that Senju Hashirama had just hugged me—and then I tried _not_ to meditate on the fact that those same arms had probably crushed and _killed_ other men for lesser offenses.

"Dear member of the Uchiha Clan!" He exclaimed loudly. "Thank you for greeting us at this fine summit!"

He had an eager smile on his face and he placed two hands on my shoulders. Hundreds of gazes fell on us. At this point, the crowd had fallen completely silent.

"H-Hashirama-sama," I managed to utter, bowing slightly. "How did you...how did you-"

"Why, I could see your clan's insignia a mile away!" He stated with a deep laugh, patting me on the shoulder. "What's your name?"

I blinked, still in shock over the strange greeting, "My name is Uchiha Senbi."

"Senbi-chan," he repeated. "It's been years since the Uchiha Clan sent a representative to greet us."

"Oh—" I managed to say, rather dumbly.

"Forgive my husband," Mito said, walking up beside him. "He has a tendency to overreact."

I bowed quickly, "Mito-sama."

She smiled kindly, putting a hand on my shoulder, "Senbi-san. The bowing might be a bit excessive."

I glanced around, noting that no one else was bowing in their presence. I felt the heat rise up on my face as a blush began to form, "Sorry."

"You must be freezing," said Hashirama, gesturing to the thin navy yukata I was wearing.

"I didn't wait outside too long," I lied.

Something heavy collapsed on top of my head, obscuring my vision. When I pulled it off, I realized it was a coat. It was light blue with a white fur trim around the hood. The same jacket I saw Tobirama wearing earlier on.

The younger Senju appeared from behind Hashirama, wearing that same look of complete and utter indifference on his face like a mask, his white hair flowing in the wind. Tobirama was nearly the same height as his elder brother, but the atmosphere around him was cold.

I blinked, finding it difficult to process the random gesture of generosity, "Thank you, Tobirama-sama."

Hesitantly, I pulled the coat over my shoulders. It was still warm on the inside.

"It was nice meeting you Senbi," Mito said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon."

Hashirama gave me a light tap on the shoulder, nodding in acknowledgment before stepping towards the entrance hall.

They departed together after bidding farewell. I watched them disappear into the corridor as the crowd erupted into chatter.

* * *

I stared at the cobalt kimono hanging up against the frame of the door. The same kimono that Takada bought me the other day in the marketplace under the guise of a threat.

 _Madara is the man I have to love now_.

I was preparing for the banquet, which was simple enough. I had my hair pulled back in a neat bun, which wasn't a huge change from my usual get-up. I figured it wouldn't really matter anyway.

In the end, I decided against wearing the cobalt kimono, opting for a more casual pink kimono. It was a bit of an outdated design—the shoulders more boxed along with a thicker white onbi. It was a kimono that once belonged to my mother. An older kimono. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I doubted anyone would bother noticing me anyway.

I headed down the main corridor towards Izuna's room, avoiding the passing Hyuga Clan on the way.

"Senbi-san!"

Mito manifested from her room, standing in the frame of the doorway. On top of her head sat her signature gold crown. She was dressed in a beautiful, rather contemporary white kimono with a green trim along the sleeve.

Instinctively, I bowed, "Mito-sama."

She waved me over with a smile, " _Ah_ , let's not address each other so formally. We're around the same age, aren't we?"

"Seven-," I said, suddenly remembering my birthday was not too long ago. "I mean eighteen."

"I'm nineteen," she replied, waving me over. "So that works out."

I walked towards her room, albeit hesitantly, "Mito-san?"

"Senbi-san," she responded happily, opening the door wide and inviting me in. "I assume you're going to the banquet tonight?"

I nodded.

"To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of those kind of functions," Mito admitted, closing the door behind me. "But I suppose we have to eat one way or another. So I figure I'll sit through a few hours of formalities for the sake of a meal."

I laughed genuinely, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

"So are you going as Madara's guest?" Mito asked.

I flinched, biting down on my tongue. I felt the tears well up in my eyes from the pain.

She blinked in rapid succession, "Are you okay, Senbi-san?"

"I'm fine," I replied almost too quickly, feigning a small smile for the sake of keeping the air clear. "Actually, I'm going as Izuna-san's guest. Takada is Madara's wife, so she'll be going as his guest."

"Takada of Kumogakure?" Mito echoed, still seeming a bit confused.

"Yes," I answered.

"So I assume you're Izuna's wife."

I couldn't help but laugh, "Not quite. I'm here as his advisor."

"Ah. Forgive me for being so presumptuous," she said softly. "Usually, the female guests invited are, well…"

"Fiancées or wives," I interjected, nodding in acknowledgment.

I took a quick glance around the room, noting that Hashirama's robes were spilled onto the bed in heaps.

"Excuse the mess," she said. "My husband is a bit sloppy."

"It's fine," I told her.

It was the exact opposite of Madara, who had things organized and trimmed neatly. The thought of it made me smile, considering that that was probably the last thing people expected from him.

"I don't mean to be rude," she said, "but your kimono…it seems a bit—"

"Outdated," I finished for her.

Takada would be heading to the banquet tonight. _Anata_ , she'd said. As if they were already that close. I couldn't shake the uneasiness in my chest, but I figured this would have to be another fact of life I'd learn to accept. After all, the more I dwelled on it, the less likely I'd move on.

"I had another kimono prepared. A gift given to me as a threat. So I had trouble putting it on," I said.

I wasn't sure why I told Mito. It was probably because I had nothing to lose, at that point.

Too many secrets were pent up inside me, and it was difficult to spill my thoughts to the people in my own clan without it turning into the talk of the compound. Rumors had a tendency to blow up like wildfire and the last thing I needed was to put myself in jeopardy. And I figured the answer was vague enough so that I wouldn't divulge any unnecessary details.

"I suppose that's probably for the best," she said, unaffected by the bomb I'd just dropped. "So let's get you changed into something more appropriate, shall we?"

* * *

Despite my protests, Mito dressed me in an emerald green kimono—a golden dragon running up the side. She undid my bun, letting my hair fall loose to my lower back. It'd been a while since I had my hair cut, and my hair sat wavy after being tied up in a bun all day. I usually never wore my hair down unless I was relaxing alone in my bedroom.

Then, Mito put some powder on my face, groomed my eyebrows, and colored my lips with a tint of rouge.

"Seems a bit pointless and stupid," she stated blandly, taking out a few hairpins from her dresser. "Dressing up might be a bit vain, I suppose."

"It's not," I told her.

There were no pretenses; there were no guises. We were two simple women with nothing to lose with each other. Despite the barrier between our clans, nothing ever felt off between us. Maybe in another life, we could've even been friends.

Mito clipped a golden dragon into my hair, matching the same dragon lined up against the seam of my kimono. Beads of crystal lined up in my hair.

"I don't mean to be rude," I said, "but why are you being so kind to me?"

A pause. Some hesitation. Mito's fingers brushed a lock of my hair aside.

"To be honest, it'd be good for us to get along, considering the current relationship between our clans," Mito admitted. "Over some silly dispute of the past."

Ah, the sweet ache of disappointment.

So it had been a slight charade, in some aspect. But I wasn't angry, knowing that if I were in her position, I'd probably do the exact same thing.

The truth is, there was no allegiance between the Senju and Uchiha Clan. Although we'd been at a standstill for some time, the tensions between our clans were still strong.

"But I can tell you're kind," she continued, brushing through a lock of my hair with her delicate fingers, "after all, you weren't sent by your clan to greet us at the entrance today, were you?"

I paused, remaining silent.

"I thought so," Mito continued with a soft smile. "Anyway, we were grateful you showed up. Even if we did only meet for a short while."

 _We_. She was talking about her and Hashirama.

It occurred to me, at some point, that she managed to see right through me. See right through our clan. Hashirama probably assumed the Uchiha Clan went out of their way to send a representative to greet him, but Mito seemed to understand the severity of the situation. Hashirama probably thought it was an act of goodwill, but Mito seemed to know better.

"Are you angry with me?" She asked.

"I'm not angry," I replied. "But still, this is too much. I can't accept this all."

"Nonsense," Mito replied, waving off my suggestion. "You'll accept it, and that's that."

Her act of goodwill. A free kimono because of the pretense she'd put on. A sort of apology for attempting to bridge a connection between our clans. After all, this was a political summit.

Mito patted down the slight wrinkle in the seam of the kimono.

I brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the notion of being lavished with presents with a political agenda behind the gesture. I suppose the politics ran deeper than just formal meetings, and there were probably deals made behind closed doors.

I was unable to soothe the unease in my stomach. Even though the Senju Clan was trying to work towards some kind of peace and unity, it was still a difficult pill to swallow. In the end, I was just being used as a pawn.

"For the record, this doesn't mean anything," Mito said, as if she were reading my mind. "Don't think of this as a gift, or a favor. I don't need you to return me anything."

Still, I was hesitant. Rarely did free things come without strings. And if they did, they usually came under some kind of guise or pretense. I'd learned that lesson with Takada.

"I find that difficult to believe," I replied carefully.

"That's fair," she replied. "Action is character, after all. I suppose you don't know me well enough, yet."

Exactly. Action is character. I spared a small smile, "I hope you don't take offense."

"Of course not," Mito said with a small smile, gesturing to the mirror by the doorway. "By the way, you look beautiful."

I spared a measured gaze at my reflection, digesting how different I looked.

The emerald kimono accentuated my figure quite nicely, and the dragon running up the side was definitely eye-catching, but not distracting or gaudy. My hair was let loose, and the thin dragon headpiece pinned on the side of my hair reflected in the pale light. The look was simple enough, yet elegant.

"Shall we?" Mito motioned to the door.

I paused, thinking about the implications of wearing this kimono to the banquet.

"It's a new kimono," she said. "If it helps, think of it as a gift for greeting us today at the entrance. The debt has been repaid. Now, we owe each other nothing."

The thought made me feel a little better, and it managed to sway my initial apprehensions, if only temporarily.

I took a deep breath, following behind her into the corridor. We walked alongside each other in relative silence until we reached the main hall, which was filled with people.

"Perhaps we should separate," she said, as clumps of people began to fill the hall.

Nodding slightly in acknowledgment and putting on a forced smile out of habit, I headed towards the banquet hall alone.

* * *

The banquet hall was huge, a long table lined up from one end of the room to the other. It was brightly light with candles nearly everywhere. Almost everyone was dressed in formal wear, which made me utterly grateful that Mito had given me the emerald kimono I was wearing.

From the distance, I spotted my clan, all clad in navy. Except Takada. Who was wearing an extravagant purple kimono, gold feathers stitched into the seams. She was currently conversing with someone from the Hyuga Clan.

Next to her, Madara met my gaze, and I quickly looked away.

I headed down the stairs, where Izuna met me. He looked rather handsome in his formal robes, lifting a hand up for me to take. For the sake of formality, I took his hand graciously, heading down the final steps of the staircase.

"How gentlemanly of you," I said, linking arms with him.

We headed towards the banquet table, which was lined with small appetizers, and pots of red carnations.

"I try," Izuna stated. "Nice dress."

"Thanks," I replied.

He pulled out a seat and I sat down, sparing a small smile up at him before he took a seat next to me, "You look different."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I told him calmly.

"Don't," Izuna smirked. "Although I suppose my brother would beg to differ."

He gestured towards Madara with a cock of his head, "He hasn't taken his eyes off you've arrived."

"I get it," I said. "The kimono is a little much."

"Maybe. The color just seems unlike you," Izuna said, shrugging.

I opened my mouth to say something, but decided to clamp it shut at the last minute, focusing on the delicious appetizers in front of me instead. The last thing I wanted to do was divulge the origin of the gift.

I decided to go with the small bowl of pickled radish first.

Just as I reached forward with my chopsticks to pick it up, I was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"A word, Senbi."

Looking up, I met Madara's dark gaze.

I shifted my gaze to Izuna, who shrugged indifferently. He took a deep sip of his sake, turning back to the appetizers sitting on the tabletop.

 _So much for being my date_ I thought to myself.

Slowly, I stood up, following Madara out of the banquet hall into a secluded corridor.

He was wearing a formal navy yukata, an imprint of our clan insignia on the back. It seemed a bit tight on him—a bit more form-fitting than his usual robes. I watched his muscles ripple in the backside.

"I heard you went to greet them at the summit entrance," he said, turning around suddenly.

A far cry away from the banquet hall, the corridor was completely and utterly vacant. It was quiet here, which made the tension all the more palpable. This was the first time Madara acknowledged me since the _incident_.

"You haven't forgotten your allegiances, have you?" He said.

Narrowing my eyes, I said, "Of course not."

"Then why did you go?" Madara looked stern and unmoving.

It seemed like we were back at base one. All that time stripping the walls he built up seemed to be in vain since we were back to the basic foundation we started out with. He'd say something, I'd reply, he'd snap at me.

"I was curious," I admitted. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

"Not a big deal? You're at a _political_ summit," Madara snapped. "Please don't tell me you're as imbecilic as you seem."

I frowned. Under any other circumstance, I would've shot back something snarky or sarcastic. But it seemed like the relationship between us had shifted, and I couldn't rely on jokes without reverting back to the same kind of awkward intimacy between us.

"And this kimono?" He said, motioning to the dress. "When you receive a gift, you should know that the giver usually expects something back."

It was true. I should've been smarter about my dealings with Mito. But she'd managed to convince me it didn't mean anything. And the truth is, I believed her.

So, with my tail between my legs, I said softly, "I'm sorry."

I stared down at the ground, afraid of what I'd see in his eyes. The _sharingan_ , or some derivative of it.

Madara headed away down the long corridor, his footsteps echoing behind him.

The truth is, I just wanted to touch him to convince myself he was still real. To hold him. It wasn't even because of the intimacy, or the sexual tension. I just wanted to be near him.

"Did you get me those flowers for my birthday?" I asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

A pause. Madara hesitated mid-step, pausing only briefly before heading on his way again.

"What flowers?" He replied.

* * *

"Senbi-chan,"

A deep voice called out my name from the distance. By the time I entered the banquet hall, I watched as Hashirama approached the stairwell with Tobirama following from behind. The former offered me an arm.

I bowed slightly before pulling back.

Hashirama seemed surprised by the rejection, but the smile didn't disappear from his face. Meanwhile, Tobirama acknowledged me with a curt nod, and I reflected the gesture, figuring that that was probably his form of a greeting.

Hashirama was dressed in a white robe, a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck His undershirt was gray, imbued with a yellow Senju Clan insignia. Tobirama was dressed much more formally, wearing a blue robe with a simple fur trim around the neck.

"We're on the other end of the table," Hashirama stated, gesturing to the far end of the room, "so we probably won't see much of each other tonight."

"Nii-san figured he could at least escort you to your seat," Tobirama added, unable to mask the sarcasm dripping from his lips.

"Oh," I managed to utter. "That's not necessary. I-"

"-nonsense," Hashirama interjected, grabbing me by the elbow, pulling me ahead.

As we entered into Uchiha territory at the opposite end of the dining table, all eyes turned to stare at Hashirama and Tobirama. Hashirama seemed blissfully ignorant of the dark eyes watching him, leading me to my seat next to Izuna.

"Oi, Madara!" Hashirama called out, waving at the dark eyed man across the table sitting next to Takada. "It's been years since we last saw each other! Aren't you going to introduce me to your lovely wife?"

Madara narrowed his gaze while Izuna stood up from his seat. The tension in the air was thick.

Takada's gaze shifted from Hashirama to Madara—and there and back again.

"Hashirama," Madara stated darkly.

Izuna and Tobirama glanced at each other with narrowed eyes. I tried to swallow the lump stuck in my throat, but found it difficult as all eyes turned to me.

Hashirama broke the silence, laughing heartily, "Have a good dinner, everyone."

With that, he walked off next to Tobirama, heading towards the brightly lit section of the dinner table.

"Seems you've made some friends," Izuna commented casually, pulling out my seat for me.

"I don't know if friends is the right word," I told him, sitting down.

"Friends or not," he said, "you should probably watch how you act, especially in front of the elders. You're lucky they're not here tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means," Izuna met my gaze, "the Senju Clan isn't our ally and you should be careful people don't get the wrong idea."

* * *

The banquet went by in relative silence. Takada had her fair share of sake, and I considered telling her to slow down, but I was torn between my former role as her caretaker and my current role as an advisor to say anything.

" _Really_? I find _that_ hard to _believe_ ," Takada leaned forward, leaning her cheek against the shoulder of the representative from Kirigakure sitting next to her. "There can't _actually_ be a secret to a _perfect_ marriage. _Nothing_ is _perfect_."

Her words were slurred and sloppy, and there was a glaze in her eyes that seemed to border between melancholy and disinterest. She probably wasn't aware of the conversation she was having.

I'd never been drunk, and I wasn't planning on getting drunk the night before our political meetings, so I could only speculate from afar what was going through her mind.

Meanwhile, Madara looked rather irritated, staring indifferently at his own plate of food that he'd barely touched.

"You'll be meeting with the Hyuga Clan, the Sound Country, and the Waterfall Country tomorrow morning at 9am," Izuna stated, playing with his bowl of sweet congee, "so don't be late."

"You underestimate my penchant for punctuality," I said.

"—but my _husband_ won't even consummate our marriage!" Takada exclaimed loudly.

Madara nearly spat out his sake.

I blushed, shifting my gaze to the dinner setting.

"Perhaps I'm being a bit too romantic," she continued, "expecting my husband to give up all his hidden _mistresses_ —"

"—that's enough, Takada," Izuna stated, interjecting her stream of consciousness.

She blinked, a lock of hair still stuck to the side of her cheek. Slow realization dawned on her face and a slight blush rose on her cheeks.

Despite the tension, Madara stood up from his seat, his chair screeching back with a groan. He departed the banquet hall without another word. I considered following after him, but Izuna put a hand on my shoulder, forcing me down in my seat.

* * *

I escorted Takada to her room quietly. She seemed rather self-aware after the random outburst earlier on, and it seemed like she didn't want to overstep her boundaries again. Although I wasn't her caretaker this time around, I still treated her with respect and courtesy out of habit.

Once I led her to her room, she undid the onbi tied around her waist, stripping herself from the confined purple kimono. She crawled into bed naked, leaning her cheek against a cushioned pillowcase.

Takada stared into blank space, "I'm sorry for what I said."

I shrugged, shaking off the terrible feeing in my stomach, "You should probably apologize to Madara-sama."

She remained silent for only a brief moment before continuing, "I'm not stupid, you know. I see the way he looks at you, Senbi-chan."

After all this time, it was still _Senbi-chan_.

"I'm really trying to make this work," she said softly, the tears welling up in her eyes.

I sighed, taking a seat on the bed, "He's the kind of person that requires time and patience. Relationships are hardly ever that easy."

"Have you been in a relationship before?" Takada asked.

I paused.

"I know you don't love him," I told her, deciding to turn the conversation instead of indulging the details of my personal life to someone I didn't really trust. "Not yet, anyway. He has a lot of walls, and layers, but he's not as difficult to break as you think."

Takada laughed coldly, smudging the glittery powder on her eyelid.

"What is it?" I asked.

"From the sound of it," she said, still staring off into the distance, "I might've mistaken you for someone who's in love with him."


	10. As We Know It

Note: I'm sorry this is so late. Dx I don't really have any excuses, but all my responses to your reviews are at the bottom of this chapter. Thank you SO MUCH for being patient with me T_T

* * *

10

 _As We Know It_

* * *

The next morning progressed rather unceremoniously as I attended a number of meetings in Takada's place. But since I was already here, I figured it'd be to my benefit to meet and greet as many respected figures as possible. Mostly, I took a backseat behind Mifune the elder and Izuna, while they split negotiations and contract making. The majority of the meetings didn't take more than a few hours.

Although now—we were, unfortunately, stuck at a standstill.

"Unsurprisingly imprudent," said Madara snidely, folding his arms over his chest. "I don't know what I expected."

I watched in mild fascination as the corner of the long wooden table separating our clans cracked underneath Tobirama's grip.

Meanwhile, Hashirama's kept the smile he had practiced down to near perfection on his face, completely indifferent to the apparent insult thrown at his younger brother, "I apologize for any imprudence on our part, but I ask you to reconsider."

"A trade route from north to west _would_ be beneficial to our clan," Izuna conceded with a soft sigh, "considering how far removed we are from the mainland Fire Country."

"We don't need it," Madara waved off his younger brother's suggestion without much hesitation. "Consider the time and resources that'll be wasted. We're better off keeping things the old way."

"Of course we don't _need_ it," Izuna stated. "But it'd be convenient."

"If we don't _need_ it," Madara continued, "then why are we still talking about it?"

The same old Sunday market. Waiting for the merchants to come to us. The only passageway into our clan.

And while I stared at the unoccupied chair next to Madara where Takada should've been, that's when I realized Madara was trapped in his old mindset. Call it a longing for the past or simply his stubborn nostalgia. Despite everything, he just couldn't let go.

I shifted my gaze to Izuna, halfheartedly expecting him to retort something snarky.

Suddenly, Mito stood up from the other end of the table, clearing her throat, "Perhaps we ought to take a break."

"That sounds fine to me," Hashirama nodded in agreement, following suit. "We'll reconvene in 30 minutes. How does that sound, Madara?"

"Hn," was his noncommittal response as everyone began to filter out of the meeting room.

Silence followed until the only remaining members in the room were Madara and Izuna. Noting the tension in the air, I decided to head towards the exit after Mifune, bowing slightly before excusing myself from the conversation—or lack thereof.

"Seems like a pretty important deal to be rejecting," Izuna pointed out indifferently. "Nii-san."

 _Nii-san_? It was the first time I'd ever heard Izuna adopt the moniker aloud. Normally, he'd never addressed Madara as anything other than _Madara-sama_. Naturally, the term of endearment caused me to give brief pause before sliding open the door of the meeting room. As I took my leave, I felt my breath hitch as there was some shuffling on the other side of the door.

"Are you questioning my decision?"

Madara's voice, undoubtedly.

A pause.

"Not at all," Izuna's response seemed indifferent. "I just wonder if you're putting our clan's best interests first."

* * *

After perusing the halls for some time, I managed to find Madara alone outside the west gates. Sitting by himself on a marble bench, he was staring up at the frozen cherry blossom trees looming overahead. In place of flowers, there was only ice and snow hanging precariously from its branches. Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, heading towards him in slow strides, trying to avoid getting snow in my boots.

Madara didn't even bother acknowledging me as I took a seat next to him on the bench, following his gaze to the crystals of ice looming overhead.

There must've been something morbidly fascinating about how dangerous this situation was. I was almost tempted to make some offhanded comment about it, but from the look on Madara's face, I realized he was probably in no mood for idle chitchat.

"I think," I started—shifting my gaze to the vast white landscape sitting in front of us, "it's a pretty good deal, all things considered."

He snorted, "As if I need some like _you_ to tell me—"

"They're offering to provide the resources for construction of the road," I continued, brushing off his interjection. "This project could create new jobs, and open us up to the Fire Country. It's better than having a Sunday market that's nearly impossible to regulate. Just think about it."

Madara glanced at me only briefly before relenting a soft sigh. For the first time, he looked rather unlike himself—a bit dejected, a bit forlorn. Opening himself up to new things was probably difficult.

"Do you think I'm trying to be selfish?" He said, suddenly.

It was hard to gauge from his tone, but he didn't sound like he was looking for reassurance. Rather, it was rhetorical.

Naturally, I considered the question anyway, "I think all great leaders need to be selfish if they want their clan to succeed."

Madara rolled his eyes, "Seems like you've actually learned a thing or two about being politically correct."

"Maybe," I admitted nonchalantly, "but I don't think that makes it any less true."

I felt his eyes on me for only a brief moment before he returned his gaze to the wide expanse of white ahead of us. The summit had a pretty damn good view, despite the freezing temperature.

I smiled a little, pulling my knees to my chest, "You should do what you think is right. And if you feel like you have to go against the grain, then commit to it."

* * *

The meeting room was filled with a cacophony of chatter by the time we returned. I hesitated slightly before walking through the open door behind Madara. Most of the attention shifted to him—except Mito, who seemed to be staring at me from the other end of the room. I caught her gaze, sparing a smile out of sheer politeness.

She nodded in acknowledgment.

Hashirama smiled, opening the files in front of him, "Shall we continue our negotiations?"

Despite his cheerful demeanor, he completely commanded the attention of the , he could've fooled anyone with that smile. It was difficult to believe that this was the same Senju Hashirama that was so feared on the battlefield.

"Don't bother. We've already decided to accept your terms," Madara interjected. "On a few conditions."

Izuna shifted his gaze from Hashirama to his elder brother. He was unable to mask the complete look of utter surprise written all over his face.

"Mizuna will help you draft a new contract," Madara continued, nodding for the elder Uchiha advisor to step forward. "For the record, our clan will be regulating the trade route alone."

"That's absurd," Tobirama stood up from his seat.

Hashirama waved for his younger brother to sit down. His cheerful demeanor melted almost too quickly, as he seemed to be running through the suggestion in his mind. He was probably also trying to digest Madara's sudden change in heart, but he probably thought it was rather unimportant compared to the bomb that he'd just dropped.

"It's a compromise," I added. "This is where we'll be meeting halfway."

It was the first time I'd spoken up at all during the meeting. Afraid that the negotiations may take a turn for the worst, I felt like I needed to nudge Hashirama in the right direction. Knowing Madara, he probably wouldn't accept anything less than his ideal alone. I shifted my gaze to the Izuna and Mifune to gauge some kind of reaction, but it seemed they both had their best poker faces on right now.

"Halfway?" Tobirama sneered. "Seems like we're getting the short end of the bargain here. We're spending _our_ time. _Our_ resources."

"Creating a direct route to us," Mifune stated placidly, staring up at the younger Senju sibling with half-lidded eyes. "We've already allowed you to encroach on our territory. Are you truly willing to lose this deal over the sake of some silly dispute?"

"Mifune-san," Mito stated sternly. "This isn't some _silly_ dispute."

"We'll allow it," Hashirama interjected.

"You can't be serious," snapped Tobirama.

"But you'll have to meet us halfway too," Hashirama continued, smile reappearing on his face.

I cocked my head to the side, watching in curiosity as Hashirama raised a single index finger in the air.

"You'll have to join us for dinner on New Years."

I felt a sweat drop slide down the side of my neck.

It was truly an anticlimax, if there ever was one.

I looked to Mito, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. But I was unable to gauge a genuine reaction from her face. Unlike the younger Senju sibling, she looked completely impassive. Almost as if she expected something like this.

I wondered what belied that strained expression of feigned politeness.

I shifted my gaze back to Madara, who looked completely and utterly peeved by the suggestion. Although it was embarrassing, I doubted he'd actually reject their condition, considering how simple and _stupid_ it was.

* * *

After negotiations were settled and after the meeting was adjourned, we all headed on our separate ways. Mifune left to draw up the contract, Madara allegedy headed back to his room to take care of Takada, and Izuna didn't bother disclosing where he'd be going. It seemed that we'd all had enough of each other after sitting in a cramped room together all day.

Having sat through an entire day of idle chatter, I decided to head to the public onsen neighboring the building that Takada mentioned the other day. Although I wasn't usually privy to pampering myself, I figured there was no harm in relaxing since the day was over. After all, how many chances would I get to return back here?

I decided that, in the end, joining Hashirama and Mito for a New Years dinner wouldn't be the end of the world for Madara. In fact, today's negotiations should've served as sort of a moral vitory for our clan. Although it was childish on my part, the thought of Madara and Hashirama conversing at the same dining table made me want to throw back my head and laugh.

Wrapping a towel around my body, I slinked slowly into the water of the bath. Fanning the hot liquid with my arms to avoid collapsing into it completely, I tried to locate a sitting area within the pool through the thick cloud of steam overhead.

"You did well today."

Instinctively, I dropped my weight from my feet, dropping face first into the water. When I resurfaced, I found Izuna sitting in the adjacent edge of the onsen, looking rather amused.

"You almost gave me a heart attack," I snapped at him, unable to mask my irritation and digest his compliment at the same time. "What if I choked and drowned or something?"

Staring at me in disbelief, Izuna rolled his eyes, "Drown? In a public _onsen?_ "

"It's possible," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"If you're stupid enough to drown in an onsen, then you probably deserve to die," he stated indifferently.

I sifted over, clenching my towel close to my chest, "Your girlfriend must really enjoy your sense of humor."

Almost immediately, his cheeks flushed scarlet. Shifting his absentminded gaze to a random corner of the room, he let out a soft _hn_. Meanwhile, I sat down near him, leaving an empty seat between us.

"Anyway, thanks," I threw out the response noncommittally. "Feels like we were in that meeting forever."

"That was nothing," Izuna replied with only an ounce of disdain. "Try sitting in a meeting room with the elders."

"Elders?" I echoed. "The Uchiha elders?"

"Obviously," his response was terse and cold.

I pursed my lips, unsure of how to respond. The elders of our clan were certainly stern, but I'd had little to no contact with them, considering the discrepancy in our line of work. They were highly revered though, almost like a checks and balance system for the leader of our clan. But I always assumed that Madara had the final word in all decisions. I suppose Mifune's presence in all the meeting rooms should've tipped me off that that wasn't necessarily the case.

"What exactly did you say to him?" Izuna asked, throwing an arm over the edge of the bath. "He doesn't change his mind easily."

I shrugged, "Honestly, I'm not sure."

It was the truth. I hadn't tried that hard to coerce him. In the end, I left the decision up to him.

" _Naaaa_ ," Izuna sighed, dipping deep into the water until his chin was hovering above the surface. "Maybe we ought to bring you to more of these meetings."

Suddenly, the door to the onsen slid open, revealing a young girl from the main hall cloaked in green. From the insignia etched on her dress, I could only assume she was from the Senju Clan.

Instinctively, I shifted another seat away from Izuna, leaning on the far end of the onsen.

She bowed slightly, "Sorry for interrupting, Izuna-sama. Senbi-sama."

"You weren't interrupting anything," Izuna stated sullenly, standing up.

 _That's my line_ I think bitterly to myself, observing his rather lean body through the thin amount of steam in the air.

"Hashirama-sama would like to see you," she said. "Senbi-sama."

"Senbi-san, please," I told her hesitantly, glancing over Izuna for some sort of reaction. Some kind of snarky reply about how close I was getting to the Senju Clan.

Instead, he stepped out of the pool with an utter mask of indifference written all over his face.

But I could tell.

It wasn't something he needed to state aloud for me to understand.

 _Be careful_.

* * *

I walked through the corridor, feeling rather refreshed after my bath. Although it was cut short, I put the interruption at the back of my mind and tried not to let my mind linger on the fact that the girl had addressed me as _Senbi-sama_. The affectation was almost comical, but the sensation was new and unexpected. The truth is, I was _happy,_ and I couldn't help but wonder if it'd eventually turn into a moniker I'd have to get used to.

I paused outside the smaller hall I was advised to meet Hashirama in.

It was a troubling realization that was hitting me. That this wouldn't be my life forever. The thought saddened me, of course. Over the course of these few days, I actually felt like my life might've been worth something more than just taking care of someone else's. It was the feeling that I was actually able to make some kind of a difference, no matter how small and pointless it seemed.

And tomorrow, I'd return to my place as an errand girl. A caretaker.

Keeping the thought at the back of my mind, I walked through the open doors of the hall, heading down the steps. From the distance, I spotted Hashirama, who was already waiting for me at one of the many empty banquet tables. Almost comically, he raised an arm into the air, waving at me. I reciprocated the gesture, trying not to blush at the absurdity.

Sitting next to him was Mito.

I bowed slightly to greet them as I neared the table, ready to take the empty seat across from them. But they stood up.

"It won't take long, Senbi-san," Mito said, walking towards me. "We just wanted to bid farewell."

Hashirama followed from behind, the corners of his lips tipping up to form a faint smile, "We're heading back tonight, so we won't catch you tomorrow before you leave."

How he knew we were leaving the following morning, I'd never quite understand. But instead of letting my mind linger on the thought, I nodded as cordially as I could, "That's a shame."

It crossed my mind, at some point, that they'd called me all the way down here just to bid me farewell. A personal goodbye. I wasn't aware that I had such a friendly rapport with Mito and Hashirama. Although the thought of building some kind of ambassadorship between the Senju Clan and Uchiha Clan rolled around in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but feel like I was walking straight into a trap.

Something felt off.

Hashirama put a hand on my shoulder, causing me to jolt up slightly in response.

Mito met my gaze with kind eyes, "We wanted to thank you for helping us out with negotiations today."

Thank me? They ended up getting the short end of the stick, and there was no doubt they understood that.

I opened my mouth to say something. But I understood my place between them, and I knew I had to tread carefully. Despite the humble façade they had on, there was no way for me to actually gauge what they were thinking.

"We're hoping we can count on you in the future," Hashirama remained unwavering.

Count on me?

"What do you say, Senbi-chan?" said Mito with a kind smile.

It felt good, of course. To feel important. To feel _needed_.

In that moment, I understood Madara's entitled attitude. Having power was a feeling of pure ecstasy.

But naturally, that kind of feeling could only be fleeting before I managed to ground myself back into reality. I looked at Mito, who was staring at me earnestly with a halfhearted smile. Then, I shifted my gaze to Hashirama, who still had his hand on my shoulder. His grip stiffened, but I didn't feel any pain. It was a sign of reassurance, or goodwill.

Reaching out, I brushed his hand off.

"Safe travels to you both," I told him begrudgingly with a smile.

Then, I shifted my gaze to Mito, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

* * *

Holding the green kimono and blue coat with the fur trim I was given during this grip, I waited outside Tobirama's door. As I raised my hand to knock, I hesitated.

Folding up the pieces neatly, I placed them on the ground outside the entrance.

* * *

 **Flash forward—present day**.

* * *

I awakened in the comfort of my own bed, feeling a sharp pain rip through my neck. Struggling to pull myself up, I used my wrist to leverage my weight against the headboard of the king-sized wooden frame. It was only then that I noticed the open gash extending from the lower part of my elbow to my wrist, the bruise on my collarbone, and the dirt and blood underneath my fingernails.

And all at once, everything came flooding back.

The training grounds.

The explosion.

The blood.

The baby.

 _Madara_.

And as the miscarriage came back into my mind, I felt my eyes water.

Rational thoughts, Senbi. _Rational thoughts_.

And yet, it was the feel of shame and embarrassment that I couldn't quite get over.

 _Don't cry_.

Don't cry.

 _"I was pregnant."_

 _"Was?"_

 _"It was yours."_

I threw off the covers almost instantly, trying to bury the conversation I had with Madara in the back of my mind. I narrowed my gaze, expecting the worst.

No blood. No nightmare pool of red like I'd expected. I wasn't at the training ground anymore, after all.

Still.

I couldn't erase the look of disbelief written on Madara's face as I finally admitted the one secret I'd been holding in all that time. It occurred to me, at some point, that if I'd just kept my mouth shut while we were still in the shambles of the training camp, I wouldn't have had to put him through that misery at all.

(And what was that old saying about ignorance being bliss? I wouldn't know. It had a tendency to screw me over time and time again)

In the end, it shouldn't have even mattered.

I'd kept the pregnancy a complete secret from everyone except Izuna and Chiaki, so who was I really hurting in the end? It was a child I shouldn't have really wanted—a child I was hesitant on having in the first place. It wasn't anybody's concern except mine, so why did it even matter so much? In the grand scheme of things, life would move on; and this would be another irrelevant, pointless detail for the records to gloss over.

Still. Why did it feel like there was nothing worth living for now?

There was a knock on the door, and I opened my mouth to call out, only to find that my throat was completely parched. The door slid open to reveal Chiaki, standing at the frame with a cup of tea in her hand.

Her eyes widened, "Senbi!"

"Chiaki," I managed to make out, trying desperately to quell an oncoming sob.

Quickly, she sped to my bedside, leaving the cup of tea on the nightstand nearby. Her eyes were glossy, and from the dark circles underneath her eyes, I could tell that she hadn't been sleeping well. She took a seat next to me on the mattress, grabbing me by the hand.

"I was so worried about you," she snapped angrily. "You're crazy, you know that? Running to the training grounds like that."

I tried to interject, "Chiaki—"

"Madara-sama was worried sick. The elders thought you might've died!" She followed up, with almost no intent of stopping. "Could you imagine if you did? We might as well be embroiled in another war, knowing Madara-sama's temperament."

"Chiaki," I felt my eyes water up with tears.

"You came back covered in blood," she murmured, stroking my hand softly. "Really, you're lucky you weren't hit in the femoral artery. Or you might've really been dead."

"Femoral artery?" I echoed. "I wasn't bleeding from...below?"

"Below? Senbi," Chiaki stared at me in disbelief. "You _really_ couldn't tell where the pain was coming from? Honestly, I worry about peanut sometimes. He's going to be raised by such a dense mother."

"Peanut?" I bit my lower lip. " _He_?"

Chiaki gasped—yelped, almost, " _Ah_ —I'm sorry! You didn't want to know the gender, right?"

"Gender?" I felt a bit stupid echoing everything she was saying. "Are you talking about the baby?"

The baby was…fine?

I—

"He's okay?" I was nearly on the verge of tears again, trying desperately to quell an oncoming sob stuck in the base of my throat. "I didn't lose him?"

With her right hand, Chiaki reached forward over my lower abdomen, a muted green light hovering underneath her palms. "He's fine. A perfect, healthy baby boy."

"Does Madara know he's okay?" I asked vaguely, wiping away the tears with my hands.

"What do you mean _does Madara-sama_ _know he's okay_? The _elders_ don't even know you're pregnant!" snapped Chiaki, completely irritated. "How do you expect Madara-sama to know?"

She didn't know. _Of course she didn't know_. I hadn't told her or Izuna that I'd already confessed to Madara.

I bit my lower lip, shifting my gaze to the glass of water sitting on top of the nightstand. Everything else Chiaki followed with faded into background noise as a complete wave of utter ecstasy and relief washed over me. Almost as if I'd never truly experienced happiness before.

I sat up immediately, heading towards the door, "I have to find Madara."

"Oi, were you even listening? You need bed _rest_ , you stubborn idiot—"

Pulling the door open in one swift motion, I headed into the corridor and took a quick glance around the vicinity before ducking into a group of young cooks heading who were heading towards the kitchen. I could hear Chiaki cry out my name as I lost her in an adjacent hallway.

* * *

I made my way towards the garden, where I sensed Madara's familiar chakra signature. A warm, comforting presence—like the guardian deity of our clan, or something cliché and trite like that.

Brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, I straightened my posture, suddenly feeling very self-conscious and paranoid about how I looked.

I found Madara kneeling over a bed of white roses. Still clothed in his war attire, he caught my gaze.

He stood up immediately, a frown forming on his lips, "Senbi. You should be in bed—"

"Madara," I said, shuffling towards him quickly. "I need to tell you—"

He grabbed me by the wrist, leading me towards the corridors, "You need rest. Your body isn't made of iron."

I struggled to keep up with him before whipping my wrist of out his grasp, "Wait just a second—"

"—your body has been through a trauma," Madara snapped angrily. "There no reason for you to be out of bed. Do I need to find you someone to guard your room? The last thing you need right now is to strain yourself—"

"But I—"

"Don't be stubborn," he continued, looking like he had little intention of stopping. "If the elders find you wandering—"

"—he's fine!" I blurted out.

A pause.

I took a deep breath before continuing, "I didn't lose him."

Another pause.

I let my hand hover on top of my lower abdomen.

Still, Madara looked like he was digesting what I'd said.

And then.

"Him?" He echoed vaguely. It took only a second for realization to dawn on his face, as he grabbed me gently by the shoulders. "We're having a boy?"

I tried to blink away the oncoming rush of tears. I nodded.

Without hesitation, Madara pulled me into his chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders. His breathing was uneven, and I felt him quell what seemed to be a hiccup in his chest. When I looked back up, I realized that a single tear managed to make it down the side of Madara's cheek.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry.

* * *

 _ **Note**_ : Ah, okay. So since we made it to chapter ten, I thought it would be fitting to give a flash forward to the present day. So the baby's okay! And it's a boy. T_T We're almost there. So close. Gah. Thanks so much for bearing with me through all of this. Response time!

satsuma-san: I love Takada, so it actually hurts when I have to write her Dx She's so complex and there are so many layers to her that we aren't able to see from Senbi's worldview, IT JUST HURTS.

Yerin: Tobirama will be much more important later on :D but probably not in a romantic role haha. And definitely! I wanted to show the discrepancy between a clan that's becoming much more progressive and a clan that's stuck towards the old ways (Uchiha). I am actually writing a novel right now-but I'm not really sure where to upload it? Thanks so much for the support, btw :)

a one time thing: I'm so sorry it took so long Dx but don't worry, I'll finish til the end, since I've written this story before :)

Natsuki: I don't know about a pairing between Tobi/Senbi but he will become much more important later on :D

lrviolet: I love Izuna's relationship with Senbi but I definitely think it's one of more mutual respect. It definitely teeters in that weird territory, but I think a girl can only handle so much with Madara on her hands HAHAH :P


	11. Pain

Note: I have excuses but I'm sure they're not actually worth saying D: thanks for putting up with me...I WILL FINISH THIS. I'll update with review replies some time his week! Much love to all the people who left a note of encouragement on the last chapter!

11

 _Pain_

* * *

Pain—it's universal.

* * *

The forest was screaming.

Thick silence hung between me and Madara. It tended to amplify the surrounding sounds—the birds chirping, the leaves rustling, the pit-pat of footsteps as we made a trail towards the clearing at the center of the forest. I followed in Madara's footsteps, as he facilitated a road by the stamping down the thicket.

The clearing was small—a man-made spread devoid of any actual trees. Looking up, I could actually catch sight of the sky, which had otherwise been blanketed by the leaves.

A black speck appeared in the distance. I shielded my eyes from the sun, squinting to make out what exactly it was. It came closer and closer—

A falcon.

Madara puckered his lips and let out a sharp whistle. He lifted his arm, cloaked with what seemed to be some kind of thick protective gear, up high into the air, and the bird latched on with its talons, flapping its wings. I watched in mild fascination as the corners of Madara's lips tipped up to form a faint smile.

"What's her name?" I asked.

"You knew it was a girl?" He replied blandly.

He seemed skeptical.

I shrugged, "Lucky guess."

It was more so intuition. It wasn't something I could really explain, and I figured if I'd said that, it'd lead to some snide remark and pointless banter. Ever since we returned from the summit, I'd been on edge. As if our entire relationship had shifted.

Even though it couldn't _possibly_ be true, I always felt like I was being watched.

"Her name is Eba."

A strange name for a pet, but I figured I shouldn't question it too much. Madara lifted his hand and stroked her head softly—Eba cawed in response and she gnawed on his gloved hand affectionately.

Madara never struck me as the _takagari_ type. After all, he was born into a relatively middle-class family. Takagari was a sport reserved for the aristocrats of our clan. I suppose these kinds of power dynamics had to shift once you were thrust into a world of nobility and power.

In the end, he fit the criteria. The sport suited him, I suppose. Something noble, something prideful. It was the perfect metaphor for who he was as a person.

I held out my arm, "So if I do this—"

I puckered my lips and whistled.

Madara reached out, "Stop—!"

Eba released a shriek before soaring towards me—sinking her talons into my arms. Before she could latch on tight, Madara grabbed her by the wing I watched in mortification as her feathers ripped through the air, her wings wilting in fractured angles as he threw her roughly against the base of the nearest tree.

"Idiot!" He snapped, grabbing me by the wrist.

He pulled back the sleeve of my gray yukata and examined the damage.

Only then, the pain hit.

The burning sensation was knew—and when I shifted my gaze to the three fresh gashes in my arm, I winced. Although the wounds weren't as deep as I thought, they were still painful. My eyes welled up with tears and I tried desperately to blink them away.

Maybe I'd have been better off not looking at the wound at all.

When I was four, I used to climb the wooden counters in the kitchen. Thinking I was some sort of explorer or adventurer, I'd scour the high cabinets in search of something—anything that'd appease my silly curiosity. There must've been _something_ hidden inside one of them, I convinced myself, _something magical_. Something worth risking my well-being for.

Kaa-san always said that I'd fall and break my head into two halves—but I never heeded her warnings.

As fate would have it, I fell.

Several plates shattered alongside me, and there were splinters jammed underneath my nails—in a desperate attempt to cling to the edge of the counters. I was bleeding, but I didn't know where.

Don't get me wrong—it didn't hurt.

Initially.

But when I took a better look at myself in the mirror afterwards, I started sobbing hysterically—unable to take my eyes off the mouth-sized wound etched into my forehead.

"Sorry," I said softly.

Pain.

Madara didn't bother shifting his gaze, his hand still hovering over my arm. A faint green glow radiated from the palm of his hand, "Are you _crying_?"

With my index finger, I wiped away the tears on the verge of spilling, "No."

Denial.

He scoffed, as the wounds began to shrink underneath the warm glow of his hand, "Lying only makes it worse."

Instinctively, I wanted to lean my head against his shoulder. It felt natural—but I decided against the act of intimacy at the last minute, cocking my head upright. He hardly seemed to notice, more fixated on closing the open wounds on my arm.

"I didn't know you knew healing jutsus," I said.

"Basic knowledge," Madara replied blithely. "We have specialized medical ninjas for more serious injuries."

"Ah, so the great Uchiha Madara has limits," I said, unable to hide a smile from forming.

He narrowed his gaze, and his grip tightening on my wrist.

It must've been something about the way he looked—or moved. Maybe medical practice wasn't his line of expertise. The look of pure concentration on his face should've told me that. Or maybe it was the slightly haggard breathing. I smiled faintly, observing the bead of sweat form over his left eyebrow. Then, I shifted my gaze to my arm—and realized that the wound had closed shut.

"Maybe you could do something about the scar on my forehead," I pointed out casually.

"Impossible," Madara didn't miss a beat, releasing my wrist. "You can't fix something that's already healed."

I brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, massaging my wrist gently.

"Besides, scars are character," he added.

I paused, letting the thought digest a moment, "Action is character. Not scars." _Of your past_.

"So we have different philosophies," Madara replied placidly. "What else is new?"

I examined my arm curiously, trying to search for some spot he might've missed—but it was utterly pristine. Had it not been for blanket of sweat on Madara's face, I might've convinced myself that I'd imagined the entire ordeal.

"Let's go," he said, moving swiftly through the trees.

I glanced back down at the remains of the falcon lying on the ground. Feathers littered the ground in heaps, and there was some blood that I didn't quite catch earlier on. Eba was sprawled out at the base of the tree trunk, her wings wilted in directions I didn't know they could bend.

Broken.

Pain.

It took me a moment to realize that had it not been for my stupid interference, she might still be alive.

Madara hesitated by the edge of the clearing, looking over his shoulder, "Senbi."

Snapping my attention forward, I jogged to catch up with him. I spared only a brief glance at Eba's mangled corpse lying on the ground before continuing, "You're not upset?"

"About?" Madara remained nonchalant, as we made our way back into the thicket.

"Eba," I said.

"Things live and die," he replied. "Everything. Always."

* * *

After the incident in the kitchen, I learned to avoid high places like the plague. It might've been the reason for my terrible fear of heights; at least, that's what I'd like to chalk it up to.

Kaa-san never reprimanded me for my mistake. She told me, at some point, that "the scariest thing you could see is your child cover their eyes and scream out in pain."

I perused through the library sullenly, and stared at the restricted area down the alleyway.

"You look pissed."

I flinched, unsure of how I managed to completely miss Izuna's presence behind me. Biting down hard on my lower lip, I tried to refrain from letting out a string of colorful curses underneath my breath.

"Are you trying to get into the restricted section?" He asked.

"Nope," I snapped.

"You're still looking up that—what was his name—Miyabi, was it?" He said. "I could help you take a look if you—"

"Don't," I said, rubbing my temples. "I had enough give and take at the summit."

Izuna leaned against the edge of the reading table, crossing his arms over his chest, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I said, sighed—"I learned my lesson there. What's that old saying? _There's no such thing as free lunch_."

He seemed to mull it over, pursing his lips to the side.

I thought about Mito and the kimono more often than I'd like to admit. But I harbored no animosity against her—in the end, I could only blame myself for not being more careful. The truth is, I wish there were a way for me to go back in time and warn myself. A smarter, wiser reincarnation of myself.

Pipe dreams, in the end.

"We're from the same clan," Izuna stated. "We don't owe each other anything."

I smiled.

He yawned, stretching his arms out wide. The corners of his lips tipped up to form a boyish grin. Like his older brother, Izuna was undeniably handsome. But between us, there was something more platonic—more trusting. A sort of understanding that I didn't have with anyone else, not even Madara. I couldn't pinpoint the nature of our relationship, but I suppose I didn't need a dictionary definition.

"Up for a game of chess?" He asked.

"I wish I could," I said. "But I have a meeting with Kiyo-sama."

* * *

After we returned from the summit, there'd been some newfound tension between Madara and Takada. Although I was reluctant to admit it, the space between them seemed cut—separated, almost.

It seemed wrong—almost pretentious—to ask for a promotion after the meeting, considering the fact that I was invited as Izuna's guest. Still, I felt hopeful, after receiving an invitation to meet with Elder Kiyo, the head of the elders.

As I entered the hall, I felt a bubble of excitement in my stomach. Kiyo sat at the end of one the many long tables lined up. Her hair was white as the plaster walls—tied up in a neat bun. A cup of tea was sitting next to a pile of documents in front of her. She didn't greet me, only made a soft murmur of acknowledgment when I took a seat across from her.

"It seems you've been neglecting your duties," she stated placidly, "since you've returned."

I paused.

Silence stilled between us, and I opened my mouth to speak first, only to have her interject.

"I wanted to make things clear," she said stiffly, "that you'll be resuming your former duties."

I arched a brow, "Kiyo-sama—" I felt my mouth go dry, "What about the Summit?"

She returned the question nonchalantly, "What about it?"

It didn't matter. _Of course_ it didn't matter.

I wanted to scoff, really.

It seemed relative, of course, that I'd be in the same position again. I didn't know what I expected. The truth is, maybe I should've lowered my expectations. They seemed to only disappoint me.

The life I was born into. It seemed stupid to continually bemoan my situation. I should've accepted this fact of life. It should've been easy for me.

I clenched my sleeve—and let my nails dig deep into my palm.

"Senbi," she said, meeting my gaze. "Mind your eyes."

My eyes?

"E-Excuse me, Kiyo-sama?" I couldn't help the stutter—it seemed to always come out during the most inconvenient times.

I chewed closely on my lower lip, the first taste of copper touching my tongue.

"You're letting your _sharingan_ show," she said.

* * *

I stared at the matching pair of spirals I had in either eye.

I'd activated the first spiral when I was young, but I'd always assumed it'd laid dormant. There seemed little to suggest otherwise.

I shifted my gaze from the reflection to the pond to the door of the library.

* * *

Uchiha Miyabi. Born on the 14th of march. Dead at 28.

Crime: Defector

The files slipped from my hands and scattered onto the floor. Leaning against the wall, I sank down slowly—trying to digest what I'd just read.

My father was a traitor—a defector from the army. They'd erased him from public records, but his information was still accessible in the restricted section. I used my foot to drag over the rest of the documents, but a single page ended up caught in a crack in the ground—the corner tearing off.

I hesitated.

What did I have to gain from this? In the end, it was pointless. Wouldn't it only cause me more misery? How much would I have to make myself suffer until enough was enough?

I ordered the files together and placed it back on its shelf.

* * *

Later on, I was asked to join Takada for a stroll through the marketplace.

A return to my usual duties.

As I perused alongside her, I tried to take my mind off the documents and the meeting I had with Kiyo-sama. It took almost all my strength to not collapse and completely unravel in front of her. At this rate, I knew I had nothing to lose anyway—but I couldn't help but try and keep things together.

It came to me—of course—that I was destined to remain a nobody. A faceless member of the clan. Maybe I was sensationalizing what were supposed to be simple facts, but I couldn't help it. I had a hard time accepting my fate. I just couldn't find it in me to stay resigned.

Takada took a seat on one of the moss stones. She wore her good yukata today—of a sunny yellow disposition. Pretty crystal dragonflies adorned her hair. She always had a flair for the dramatic, but she could pull it off without even batting an eyelash. While she would be forever adorned in beautiful gowns, I would die in these same shades of navy blue.

A sad girl trapped in the depths of her own despair—the pathetic portrait of some silly pipe dreams.

The only things I could cling to.

"I need to ask a favor of you."

And the _goddamn_ pain.

Sometimes. Sometimes, you just have to ride it out. Hope everything melts into numbness. Pray it doesn't fester.

And eat you alive.

"Senbi?"

But there are the wounds that never really heal. Cuts and broken bones can be mended but they're never really the same. Truth is, there are things we can't fix. Things we can't replace. Things we can't change—things we can't forget. Right and wrong is an illusion. We all live in shades of gray.

"Please help me escape."

When I look at Takada, I see what I want to see. A princess with all the opportunities in the world. I hear her when she explains her tribulations—but I don't actually _listen_ because it doesn't acquiesce with the image I've created.

But today, when I meet her gaze, all I can see is the same manic desperation I see in myself.

* * *

Pain. It's universal.


	12. Peace

**Notes** : Like I promised, I will finish this. Replies to reviews:

 **hissori** : Wow, thank you for the long review! The metaphor to chess was very much supposed to illustrate her understanding of strategy and what it means to pincer your enemies. Also, yes, they do have the same names~ I'm glad you noticed. ;)

 **satsuma-chan** : Yep, Miyabi will come back into play later. Much later. As for Izuna, well. Heh.

* * *

12

 _Peace_

* * *

As we grow older, peace is harder to come by.

I still can't tell if it's the nature of our personal priorities or the obligations that come with our jobs. I'd like to believe it's a blend of both since there's no denying the fact that they take away time, energy, and leisure – things that keep help us unwind. Things that help up keep peace of mind. But in the end, there is no separate life in our clan.

Some people – and this is where I think of Elder Kiyo and Madara – like to keep their hands busy. Some people – Kumi-sensei and Izuna – don't. Some like to idle around the compound in silence and isolation. Some live on the adrenaline rush.

I'd like to think I'm somewhere in between the two spectrums.

* * *

When I entered the courtyard, I found Izuna loitering wordlessly nearby by the KIA stone. He seemed fixated – even after all this time – and it came to me, at some point, that he'd probably never let it go.

 _When we see each other again, give me a kiss back, okay_?

Ever since Takada came to me with her request, I'd been on edge. As if someone were always watching me. A strange, lingering, unfamiliar kind of paranoia.

Slowly activating my sharingan, I scanned the vicinity for something I wasn't sure what I was looking for. I suppose things looked a little clearer. The details in the fabric were more defined.

Izuna turned around halfway, "Senbi?"

Instinctively, I bowed. The details seemed to fade slowly from my line of sight – not all at once. Putting on the best smile I could manage, I turned to face him.

"Remember that favor you owed me?" I said softly. "The one I won over a game of chess and told you to forget about?"

Izuna cocked his head to the side. Had it not been for our situation, it might've even passed off as endearing. Despite my attempt to stay professional, I couldn't help but smile.

"From the day we met?" He asked.

"Yes," I answered. "I was wondering if I could cash it in."

The corners of his lips tipped up to form a smile in return, "How about over a game of chess?"

I shifted my gaze to the other end of the courtyard, where the tables were sitting. Black and white tiles painted across glistening marble with pieces untouched.

I just didn't feel like humoring him today.

 _Just because you consider him family doesn't mean you understand who he is_.

"Can you tell me the truth about Kaminori-kun?" I said.

* * *

Takada was wearing a black yukata, ornamented with long, dangling ivory bells. It was the kind of dress you'd see in a theater – something that forced your attention, instead of convincing you softly with a caress.

"It's a little much, isn't it?" She stated nonchalantly, sparing herself a quick glance in the mirror across from her bed. "Do you think it's too much?"

"No," I said. "It looks fine."

"Really?" She didn't meet my gaze, but she gave her dress another examination in the mirror. "Are you lying?"

I hesitated only slightly before responding, "It's a little dark."

"Black is my favorite color," she said. "What's yours?"

"Blue," I replied.

It was an instinctive answer.

Considering the color of our robes and the color of our insignias, it was only natural.

"Really?" Takada echoed, shifting her gaze to meet mine in the mirror.

I paused, "Yes."

" _Really_?"

This time, she turned around, meeting my gaze directly.

I sighed, "Fine. I don't have one."

"Everybody has a favorite color," she said.

"Maybe," I replied. I couldn't help but smile, "Or maybe everybody's a liar."

Takada smirked, "Could you imagine?"

The thing is, I could.

It wasn't imagination. It was the truth.

As I watched Takada from the corner of my eye, as I watched the smile on her face fade into a grimace, I wondered to myself how long she could put on the act before she eventually – and inevitably – crumpled.

"What we talked about the other day—"

"I know," I interjected quickly.

And then, I reciprocated the smile. "You don't have to worry."

* * *

I entered Madara's room wordlessly and found him sitting up in bed, reading through what appeared to be a thick history book. I cradled the cup of tea I brought for him against my lower abdomen, while my other hand rested against the doorknob.

"You could knock," he said tartly, flipping a page over nonchalantly.

He didn't bother looking up.

"Sorry," I said.

And then – wondered if the apology seemed unlike myself.

Madara must've been wondering the exact same thing because he shifted his gaze to meet mine. It was fleeting, but I still managed to catch it.

Leaning slightly against the door, I flipped the lock over silently and gave the knob a small twist to make sure it was secure.

"You haven't been sleeping," I said – _told_ him. "Or eating."

It wasn't too far from the truth. He'd been spending nights in his office, and I rarely saw him in the dining room. When he lost weight, it showed in his face first, so it was nearly impossible to hide.

From me, at least.

"Why is that any of your concern?" He stated blandly.

"No hint of denial?" I said, feeling the corners of my lips tip up to form a wry smile. "If you really want to know, it's everyone's concern. You're our fearless leader, aren't you?"

His cheeks reddened and he snapped his gaze towards the far side of his room, his long dark hair sweeping over the good half of his face. It was almost comical. "How can you say things like that with a straight face?" He muttered.

For a moment, I wondered if I was truly confronting the _great_ Uchiha Madara.

Almost as if I were looking outside myself and staring in through the lens of a doe-eyed five-year-old.

The tea in my hand was lukewarm, but I moved forward to hand it to him. Without meeting my gaze, he snatched the cup out of my hand. He took a sip.

"Is it because you don't want to sleep with Takada?" I asked softly.

Then, he promptly spat the liquid right back out.

"Get out," he snapped.

I couldn't help but laugh. It was a rare moment – and the kind I didn't look back on in retrospect while I was living it.

The look of irritation on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and his struggle to point at the door while accidentally throwing his history book onto the floor.

But when I unlocked the door and stepped out of his room, it hit me.

The overwhelming sense of hollowness.

It wasn't a lingering doubt, but a question that I just didn't have the answers to.

What did I have to live for now?

* * *

I took a nap before returning to Madara's bedroom. It wasn't a choice really born of logic or reasoning – it was just instinctive. As much as I didn't want to admit it, turning to him was somewhat of a comfort for me.

Knowing that he knew what he wanted – and that between the two of us, there was someone more collected than I was.

When I opened the door, he narrowed his eyes with contempt, "Oi. I thought I told you to—"

"—hi," I interjected. "Do you mind if I bother you for a little bit?"

"Actually, I do—"

"Great," I leaned against the door and let myself sink to the floor in a crouching position. "Thank you."

Madara shifted his gaze.

He was still reading the same book from earlier and it looked like he was on the final pages. "You're so dramatic," he said. "Are you having another crisis or something?"

Sometimes, he could hit so close to home.

"Is that book any good?" I asked him, turning the subject.

It worked.

He snorted, "Books aren't good or bad. They teach you things. You learn."

"You don't…enjoy what you read?" I tried to mask the disbelief. "You just…read?"

"I read because it's necessary," Madara replied.

"You've never enjoyed a book?" I said. "Like, really?"

"Really," he stated.

I paused.

"You can't actually be as boring and obtuse as you seem," I said.

"Oi, watch what you're—"

He looked tired, of course.

The dark circles under his eyes could've told me that. The more I stared, the more I realized it. I was tired too, but our respective exhaustions came from different places.

"What's annoying you?" He asked, suddenly.

I blinked.

"What do you—"

"Your head," he motioned to me with a flick of the wrist. "It's like a cloud is hovering. Your gloom is contagious."

It was difficult to contain my surprise. Madara didn't lash out as much as he used to, but maybe it was just the lens I saw him through.

Maybe I just didn't understand him like I thought I did – or maybe he just never lived up to the expectations and stories.

It made him painfully approachable.

"I'll stay up with you tonight," I said, putting on the best smile I could manage.

"I didn't ask you to," he replied.

Madara, despite the whole macho-façade he had going on, had his own troubles too. As small and insignificant as they seemed.

It made him a little more naïve – a little more relatable. I guess it made him more human. I tried to imagine Madara embarrassed, but I knew that I didn't even have to imagine.

Maybe he was stressed. Maybe his exhaustion was warranted.

Maybe he did have a lot of work to do.

What did I know?

After all, I was the girl who had nothing to lose.

I walked towards him at a brisk pace and kneeled against the edge of his bed before taking a seat. Madara didn't pay me any attention, his gaze still focused on the final passages in his history book.

Another page flipped over, another chapter closed.

Snatching the book out of his grasp, I threw it to his bedside. He stared at me, incredulously, as if he could kill me with his gaze.

And the irony that he probably could.

I cupped his face and ran my thumb over his lips.

Then, I pulled him close and kissed him.

Impulsivity had always been a favorite pastime of mine, but I decided to truly indulge it this time around. Like I said earlier, I had nothing to lose. It was the only way I could truly lose myself.

It wasn't hot or urgent.

It was short.

And sweet.

Wet.

I halfheartedly expected him to ask me what the hell was wrong with me, but instead, he stared at me with concern and pulled me in slowly – almost hesitantly – until my cheek was pressed against his chest. Firm and warm.

Familiar.

"I'm in love with you," I said.

No hesitation.

No pause.

I had no qualms this time. What was that saying about the early word and the bookworm? At this point, I felt like my life was a dichotomy between losing track and having all the minutes in the world to spare. A painful contradiction I couldn't come to terms with.

I could feel him exhale.

"But you knew already," I said.

I closed my eyes.

The silence that followed confirmed it all.

He shifted slightly and I pulled back. Madara looked forlorn, like _he_ was the one banking on an answer he didn't want to hear. With his hands, he brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear and moved to cup my cheek.

His hand was warm – big and all-encompassing. It could've only been fleeting, but I felt happy.

"I don't care if you just use me," I said, bordering on manic desperation. "I don't care if you decide to throw me away after this is done. I love you. You don't have to pick me, but I want you...I just..."

Suddenly, he paused. Grabbing me by the shoulders firmly, he met my gaze, "Senbi." He was wearing a glare that screamed _get a hold of yourself_.

I shook myself out of his grasp and stood up quickly, dusting off the remaining tears on my face before heading towards the door. "I'm sorry," I muttered.

"Senbi," Madara snapped, slipping out from bed.

With no inkling of what I should say after baring the most broken and disgusting parts of myself, I ran.

* * *

There were workers in the marketplace, constructing the early skeleton of the trade route we agreed on at The Summit. The road leading into the open gates of our clan's entrance seemed better lined, but it was otherwise impossible to make out what was happening on the other side of the gate.

All the bustle and movement made it difficult for me to pay attention to my task.

"What's on your mind, Senbi?"

Takada smiled, reaching forward with the sleeve of her black yukata and brushing a tear from my cheek that I somehow managed to miss. As she leaned forward over the table of the stall, I noticed that her once perfect porcelain skin was covered in the scars of her blemishes. Hard to see from far away but more apparent when we were up close.

Takada stood up and circled around the table to take a seat next to me on the enclosing bench. She placed one arm over my shoulder. Her hold felt frail and weak, like a paper mache doll. I couldn't believe I never noticed how much weight she lost – how weak she felt.

I smiled wistfully, "I must seem pretty stupid."

Crying all the time. Crying about crying.

Feeling sorry for myself.

"It can't be that stupid if it's making you so upset," Takada replied in a singsong tone.

Point.

It was so painful how similar we were. How broken we were. I couldn't even imagine being in her position, but I still found a way to feel sorry for myself the same way. Takada carried the weight of our clan on her tiny, insignificant shoulders – the weight of _her_ clan – and I could only think about myself.

My problems.

My feelings.

"I feel…hollow," I said.

And then, I confessed.

My meeting with Kiyo-sama. The uncertainty of my future. My hatred for this job. I confessed because I convinced myself I had nothing to lose.

Not after my mother.

Not after Kaminori.

Just as I was about to let Madara's name slip from my mouth, I bit down on my tongue.

But just maybe.

Takada took some time to process the information. To be fair, I didn't blame her if she didn't digest it all. It was a lot to take in. And for her, it might've seemed newly minted and painfully insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

"It's not stupid," she snapped, suddenly. "I seriously _hate_ when you say that about yourself."

Takada took my hands and gave them a squeeze of affirmation.

Peace.

It's fleeting, really. Brief, transient, ephemeral. The kind of moment you can only see and recognize in retrospect. The trick is to appreciate them for what it's worth, even if it's only for a short while.

But maybe it's not about those moments at all.

Maybe it's about the moments of unrest. The moments that keep us on edge. No one ever remembers the peace, in the end.

Maybe we like the frenzy – the drama. The chaos of distraction. Because when it's all about peace and quiet, that's when the horror of getting lost in your thoughts begin to settle.

I slipped my hands away, and stared at my lap.

"I'll help you."

* * *

"Kaminori is alive," Izuna stated.

"Oh," I said. _Inhale_. Digest. _Exhale_. Relief. "Thank God, I—"

And paused.

This was where the pain settled in.

Izuna met my gaze, nonchalantly, eyes half-lidded as if I were the source of all this pain. As if I should be upset with myself.

"He was a traitor," he said.

I blinked.

And laughed. "You're…joking," the words fumbled out carelessly like a line of uneven beads on a string. "That doesn't—that doesn't mean…"

But.

And then.

Only silence.

What could have made him change his mind? What could've made him throw it all away?

"Excuse me," I said, bowing low.

As I turned towards the entrance to the hallway, I broke out into a sprint. _Run, run, run_ – faster, as fast as I could – _run_ until I couldn't run anymore. Run because if I slowed down and stopped, I would let my mind rest.

Run because it was the only distraction I could give myself.

 _Did you even know him_?


End file.
